


Stories Are A Different Kind Of True

by EruditePrincess1993



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captivity, Confinement, Eventual Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired By Room, Kidnapping, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Child, POV First Person, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tangled (2010) References, Therapy, Unplanned Pregnancy, characters tagged in order of appereance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-17 01:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditePrincess1993/pseuds/EruditePrincess1993
Summary: “Madi, remember Rapunzel from Tangled?” mom asked me as she straightened in her chair. “How she got in the Tower?”“Mother Gothel kidnapped her for her hair so she could stay young,” I answered.“Well, I was like Rapunzel,” she answered. “I was taken against my will. I wasn’t a toddler, though, I was sixteen. Thing is, your dad stole me.”***AU inspired by the book and movie Room.





	1. Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t help but get inspired by Room. I know that there is another AU out there that was published beforehand but it didn’t stop me from having this plot bunny while reading the book. 
> 
> Like Room, this story will be in the perspective of a child born in captivity. Only that I aged it up to nine as it’s easier than five.

“After Jean Valjean left prison, he…”

            “Stayed over at a Bishop’s house, where he stole silver.”

            “And what did the Bishop do instead of telling the police, Madi?”

            “He said that Valjean spoke the truth, and he gave him the candle holders.”

            “And he told him to use the silver to become an honest man,” mom continued, stroking my hair.

            “Valjean only stole a loaf of bread,” I pointed out. “And they treated him worst then a murderer.”

            “Sometimes people do things that we don’t understand,” mom pointed out, adjusting herself on the bed to accommodate her baby bump. “Even if it doesn’t make sense.”

            Mom’s watch beeps. She looks at it. “Seven thirty,” she says. “Time for bed.”

            “I want to stay up another hour,” I insist as she leaves the bed and opens the closet.

            “Your brain has to rest, Madi,” she says, opening up the cot. “Now, go to the toilet while you can.”

            I take a quick pee in the toilet as mom prepares my bed in the closet. It’s where I sleep since there’s no room in here to sleep. Though mom brings me out to sleep in the bed with her depending how long dad stays here.

            “You got a birthday coming up tomorrow,” mom continues as I approach her. “I don’t want you to be too tired to remember it.”

            “You will be up and not tired,” I point out. “And it’s your birthday too.”

            Mom nods. “Yes, it’s my birthday too, tomorrow.”

            She doesn’t seem happy about turning twenty-six. Probably because that means that she is getting older. I once asked her how old dad was and she said that he was twice her age. Now that’s old.

“As for me being up, I’m older then you, Madi,” she continues with a smile as she pulls the blankets over me. “You are younger, so therefore your brain still needs to be developed. Now get some sleep.”

            “Can you sing me to sleep?” I ask her. Because I won’t fall asleep unless she sings.

            Mom curls her lips into a smile. “Alright.”

            And she begins:

_I don’t know what it is that makes me love you so,_

_I only know I never want to let you go._

_‘Cause you started something, oh can’t you see._

_That ever since we met you’ve had a hold on me._

_It happens to be true:_

_I only want to be with you._

            Halfway through the song, it is difficult to stay awake. I fall asleep by the end of it.

 

* * *

 

            _Buzz. Buzz._

My eyes flash open at the sound of it. It means that the hatch leading to our basement apartment unlocked and I could hear his heavy footsteps on the floor. I know when it’s dad due to his heavy footsteps.

            They talk quietly as I hear a plastic bag be placed on the table. Probably talking about my present in case I drifted awake (my present for mom is rolled up under the cot). Mom says something that sounds cross but I couldn’t catch it.

            “You can very difficult at times, you know that?” he says. “As if those pregnancy hormones took it up for an eleven. You better not be cooking up something this time.”

            “I learned my lesson, Paxton,” she bit back. “You really think I’m going to do that being seven months pregnant and all?”

            “You’ll be surprised what even heavily pregnant women are capable of,” he retorts, snorting afterwards. “Hopefully you have the brains to not make this difficult for yourself, with your current condition and all.”

            “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice kind of high. “I mean, I shouldn’t complain.”

“See, that wasn’t hard,” he replies.

            “Sorry, and thanks for bringing down what I picked out for her back in August,” she answers. “For a moment I thought –”

            “It was a big temptation,” he interrupts. “I was strongly considering that after what you pulled last year. That was selfish, you know, especially with Madi in the picture. With the next one coming, I doubt that you would pull such a stunt again.”

            What was selfish about her accidentally falling out of the car last year? And what was he considering? Though he seems to have these moments where he’s condescending to her. And I don’t like it.

            The volume of the TV turns up and I hear some creaking on the bed. I count my fingers, as I usually do when the TV volume is up. Before mom was pregnant, they would turn up the TV every other night. Sometimes two nights in a row.

I count to one hundred. And by that time, I start to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

            I don’t know how many hours it’s been or how much time has passed. I hear the closet door creak open before feeling mom picking me up. I open my eyes slightly and she goes, “Sssh. Go back to sleep.”

            My eyes close as I am lowered to the bed and the covers are pulled up over me as mom gets in bed beside me. The lamp turns off and she scooches closer to me. It’s just me, her, and the baby inside her.

 

* * *

 

            “Happy ninth birthday, baby,” mom whispers before I feel her kiss my forehead.

            My eyes flutter open, seeing her smile at me. “Happy birthday, mom,” I yawn. “Do kids often share birthdays with their parents?”

            She chuckles. “No, not all the time. Though it happens. You were my ultimate birthday present,” she says.  “Seeing you for the first time brought a real smile to my face. The time that I actually felt happy.”

            When I was younger, she told me that she was depressed before she had me. That she would sleep and draw. That everything was hopeless for her. Then I came and her spirits were lifted.

            Mom turns on the lamp before climbing out of bed. “Now, Madi, would you like your presents now or later?” she asks.

            “How about I give you yours first?” I ask her as she turns the thermostat to make it warmer in here. It was slightly colder when we got up.

             “Alright,” she answers with a smile. I run over to the closet and retrieve the rolled up tube kept together in a yellow ribbon that was once on a box of chocolates that I received for Easter. It’s not as good as my mom’s skill but she should like it.

            It was when she was resting that one time and I decided to draw her. I could have brought her something in those times where dad takes me out and about. But a drawing is easier and less likely to be found. Also, I don’t want to risk dad hiding it, as it’s good if he doesn’t know what I’m getting her. Besides, it’s nothing that can brought from a store.

            She’s putting one of those coffee packets in her mug when I offer it to her. Mom smiles as she takes it from my hand. My heart pounds in my chest as she peels off the ribbon and unrolls the paper.

            “Why, Madi, this looks lovely,” she says. “When did you draw this?”

            “A few months ago when you were napping on the bed in the room outside the hatch,” I answer. “It’s not good as yours, though.”

            “It is still good, Madi,” she says, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me close. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. I’ll pin it above my bed. Thank you.” She kisses my forehead. “Now, it’s my turn to give you something. Though I should say that your dad thought to give you something as well.”

            She says the last part as if it’s something that she doesn’t like but has to accept. This is one of those days where I get the feeling that she doesn’t like dad (it seems more like hate when I think about it sometimes), just as often as I notice that he doesn’t treat her nice at times. I asked about it once, only to hear, “Grownups don’t always get along.”

            I wasn’t born yesterday.

            Mom hands me something tied in a plastic Walmart bag. I pull the bag apart and see that it’s one of those drawing sets. The ones with the markers, crayons, pencils, watercolor tabs, paint brushes, and acrylic crayons.

            Sweet.

My coloring pencils are wearing out anyway.

“Thanks, mom,” I say, hugging her. “I love it. Now, I don’t have to use worn out coloring pencils anymore.”

“Now, do you want dad’s present now or later?” she asks.

Probably now, because mom wouldn’t hear the end of it from dad. “Now,” I answer.

“Alright.” She picks up another bag and hands it to me. I untie the bag and see that it’s a _Tangled_ coloring book. Mom kept one that I had when I was two. The pages all scribbled on with crayon.

            I always wanted another one so I wouldn’t be reminded of my toddler years.

            “Sweet,” I comment, turning over the book.

            “Don’t forget to thank him,” mom comments as I put my presents away. “I won’t hear the end of it if you don’t.”

            Since it’s our birthdays, we take turns deciding what we want for meals. For example, I pick out what we have for breakfast. I go to the food storage/laundry room to retrieve pancake mix and bacon. The hatch leading to here is next to the stackable washer and dryer. The red light indicating that it’s locked. It can only be pushed open from the outside and forget prying it open with something if it’s locked. Dad said that we will get electrocuted if we mess with it while it’s locked.

            And when I come back in the room, she has already pinned my drawing above her bed. The cork tile walls are nearly plastered with our drawings, though most of the drawings are hers.

            Mom prepares the pancakes and bacon on hot plates before arranging them on our breakfast plates. Alongside getting our bottles of vitamins. Mom has the special bottle labeled _Prenatal_ , which she says is for the baby still growing inside her.

            She used to have a packet with special pills. She lost it last year and hasn’t gotten anymore, despite dad’s irritation that she misplaced them. After the breakfast and the vitamins, we brush our teeth. The toothbrushes stored in that red hair dye container.

            In the summer, after my big sister (from another mother, that is) heads back downstate, mom will have to dye her hair red again. Her hair is a strawberry blonde now.  I remember when her hair was blonde. I was like six.

            Because it’s my birthday, I have dibs on what I want wear for the day. I pull out my light pink hoodie with the black outline of the Upper Peninsula and my favorite jeans, which are frayed at the hems.

            “You want me to ask to replace them?” she asked as she pulled her red shirt over her torso. “They are getting frayed at the bottom.”

            “They aren’t too bad,” I insist. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere for a few months.”

            “Still, you need a new pair of jeans,” she argues. “Just because we’ll be down here from August to May most of the time doesn’t mean you can’t get a new pair.”

            I shake my head. I don’t get why mom is fussy about my clothes. Even when dad allows me to come upstairs, no one is going to see me.

            Mom brushes my hair and gives me three braids. She sings the Healing Incantation from _Tangled_ as she does my hair. With her voice breaking on some notes. Especially with the “make the clock reverse. Bring back what once was mine.”

            Then mom gestures me to the door jamb, where she’s been marking my height. It’s a birthday tradition. For me that is.

            “Stand still,” mom prompts as she kneels by me. Pulling the measuring tape tight beside me. “A year definitely makes a difference,” she comments with a smile before marking a notch above my head.

            “It is a few inches then last year,” I say as she puts the _age nine_ by the notch. “You’re growing like a weed.”

            I smile seeing the notches. I’m a big girl compared to age six and seven. “I wonder how many inches that I’ll get on my tenth birthday?”

            “If you keep eating your vegetables and eat your vitamins, you’ll gain a few inches,” says mom. Well, she kind of tricked me into eating broccoli back when I was five. Said that it would give me special brain powers if I did.

            Well, I haven’t gotten them yet. But I still eat the broccoli.

 Nine o’clock is when lessons begin. English, Science, Social Studies, Math, and Phys Ed. I read another chapter of _The Prince and The Pauper_ for English. It’s an old book about the young son of King Henry VIII trading places with an identical peasant. Even if they were alike in looks, wouldn’t their behavior give them away?

            “Well, Tom was very good at pretending to be the young prince that they didn’t notice,” mom answered when we were halfway through the chapter.

            Still, I still don’t get it. It still confuses me.

            Volcanoes was on the agenda for Science, with the industrial revolution for Social Studies, and today’s Math lesson was composed of addition and subtraction. With a lunch of corn, tater tots, and hamburger between Science and Social studies.

            Mom and I fold up the table, chairs, and roll up the rug for Phys Ed. We don’t do anything heavy and strenuous with mom’s swelling stomach. We do basic stretches with our arms and legs. Then we play a game that mom calls track.

            “I meant this wall,” she says pointing to one end of the room. “No, it was this wall,” she says after I run to that end. “No, I surely said this wall.”

            I giggle as I run back and forth. The final part of this game is where I run around the full circumference of the room.        

“You know what to do, Madi,” she says as we put back the rug, table, and chairs back in their places.

            That’s right. Retrieve cake mix, eggs, and frosting from the food storage/laundry room. We always get Funfetti cake mix and frosting but this year, I was able to coax dad for pumpkin spice cake mix and cream cheese frosting. And apparently he relented because of the sight of the cake mix and the container of frosting.

            Mom has the CD player turned on for background noise. She has put in music from the _Nightmare Before Christmas_. She basically introduced it to me two years ago and I love it.

            “This is Halloween, everybody make a scene,” I sing.

            “Trick or treat till the neighbors going to die of fright,” mom continues, giggling at the end.

            “It’s our town, everybody scream,” we sing together. “In this town of Halloween.”

            What’s interesting about the movie was that one holiday became aware of another. Without getting messed up, well the Halloween figures never understood the point of Christmas because they were so accustomed to ghoulish things and so the presents they made were ghoulish and not pretty.

            “I think that the wreath was the scariest,” I tell her as I help her mix the cake batter.

            “The dolls scared me the most,” mom replied. “I remember having nightmares over it when I was a kid.”

            The dolls were frightening, but not as scary as the tentacle wreath. Scary because it could strangle you.

            We poured the batter in the cake pan and mom sets on the timer on the small oven. Then it’s time to do my homework, as it can be done in the time that the cake has to bake and cool. The soundtrack still playing in the background.

            Forty-five minutes later, the timer goes off and within two hours, we frost the cake with the cream cheese frosting. We both put the finishing touch, drawing our age with a butter knife.

            _Mom: 26_ , I write.

            _Madi: 9_ , she writes.

            We eat the cake first before dinner. It’s delicious and moist and the frosting makes it all the better.

            “Do you think its one baby or two?” mom asks me between bites.

            I put down my fork and lean forward to put my hand on her stomach. I feel a kick and there’s another one that comes. “Was I that active when you were pregnant for me?” I ask her.

            She shook her head. “You kept me up at night but not this active,” mom answers. “I wasn’t that big for you either at this time. I think it’s two.”

            But she doesn’t look happy about it. She seems sad about it. Though she’s sad every now and then. Except the days where she is sad seems to be a lot more.

            “Why don’t you want it to be two?” I ask her.

            Mom shrugs. “It’s two times the dirty diapers, two times the work.” She cracks a smile. But I can tell that there is another reason that she’s unhappy about two babies.

            “Is there another reason?” I ask her.

            “No, Madi, there is nothing else to it,” mom answers. “Just finish your cake.”

            I get that ever present feeling where I know that I’m being lied to. But I don’t ask any more questions. Perhaps another day.

            Though that doesn’t stop me from thinking about it as I start my coloring book.


	2. A Story

Dad did not come down last night, so mom brought me to her bed earlier. Letting me snuggle with her close. I love it better when we sleep in the same bed. It’s better than sleeping on the cot in the closet. It’s warmer and cozier.

            When I was small, I would snuggle up close to her heartbeat. Mom said that the feeling of her heartbeat was probably my favorite thing while I was growing within her belly. Maybe it was.

            The soft and steady _thump thump thump_ is soothing. Though I can count the two babies moving around in her.

 

* * *

 

            I wake up when I hear something. Like a knife against something solid. I look up and see mom standing on the table with her stocking feet. Holding a flashlight as she tries to pick at those ceiling tiles.

            “Mom?” I ask.

            “Go back to sleep, Madi,” she says softly. “I’m almost done.”

            She does this once in a while. Tries picking away at the ceiling tiles with a knife. I don’t understand it but I never ask why. Probably because it’s one of those strange things that I might not get an answer for.

            After a while, she stops scrapping against the tiles. Mom gets off the table, puts away the knife, and gets back in bed with me.

 

* * *

 

            The next morning, we have oatmeal and orange juice for breakfast. Mom is writing down a list and on there, I see _new pair of jeans for Madi asap_. Right under _toilet paper_.

            I really don’t want new jeans; I like the pair that I have.

            “I don’t need jeans now,” I tell her.

            “We need new clothes in any situation, Madi,” she says.

            She’s wearing frayed clothes herself. Why does it have to be me that has to get clothes that are not frayed and not her.

The lessons drag on, as I’m anxious to continue that coloring book that dad got me. Friday jitters, mom calls it. “That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t focus on your lessons,” she informs me. “It’s just like any other day.”

The only thing I like about Friday is that we have a music lesson. Today, we sing songs like “When Will My Life Begin”, “Tomorrow”, “Maybe”, “I Dreamed A Dream”, and “Making Christmas.” We also sing tunes from “Big Rock Candy Mountain”, “All The Pretty Horses”, and “I Only Want To Be With You.”

After I get my homework done, we do the laundry on Friday. Like we always do. The things that are first priority go first before the rest get washed and dried. The first priority basket has stickers of ducks, clouds, and stars.

I asked mom about the stickers and she said it was once my crib when I was a baby.

“I was thinking, you know that Dani is from Traverse City?” she asks me.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Dad comments how she participates in their Cherry Festivals.”

I met Dani once in the summer a few years ago, back when I was five. She’s got brown hair like dad has and she’s very nice. Probably still is. Her mom is a sheriff there, from what I heard.

“Perhaps you might go there for a month,” she says. “See new surroundings and all. Besides, all girls love spending time with their big sisters.”

            Going to another place for a month? I can’t imagine leaving the Upper Peninsula. I have only gone as far as to Munising and Escanaba during the summers. Mom has too since two years ago.

            Besides, the length of the bridge from the Upper Peninsula to the mitten looks scary. It’s a wonder why it hasn’t fallen into the lake yet.

            “What if I fall from the bridge?” I ask her. “Besides, I never went as far as past Escanaba and Munising.”

            “You’re not going to fall, Madi,” she says, shaking her head. “People work on it to make sure that it doesn’t fall. And I understand that you never gone far but you might love it. They got the Cherry Festival every summer, they have this lighthouse in the Old Mission Peninsula…”

            Mom drifts off and it’s like she wants to say more but can’t get out the words. She wipes her eyes. “It’s beautiful there just as here,” she continues.

            “What will dad say about me going beyond the bridge?” I ask him. He won’t let me go off too far. Says that it’s not good for little girls.

            “I’m certain that he’ll consider it if you ask him,” she answers. “It’s not like you haven’t seen Dani before. And I’m sure that he knows that she wants to see that little sister from another mother again.”

            He has made the comment that Dani wants to see me again when she plans to have an extended stay here sometime after a semester. He can make it look like that he brought me up from Cheboygan, which he says that I’m at. I don’t understand why I’m supposed to be at another location while I have been here all this time.

            But the downside to that is that mom has to stay hidden. I don’t know why. I asked dad once and he changed the subject. As if it wasn’t something that he didn’t want me to know.

            After the laundry, mom heats up some turkey from a Tupperware container that dad gave us, along with peas, corn, and potatoes for dinner. As I eat, I think about mom’s offer. That I spend the month with Dani.

            Maybe I should go. See something different. And I can meet Dani’s mom. She’s a tough one, I remember dad saying. But cops are tough, as they are on TV.

            I continue my coloring book as mom washes the dishes. The local news playing as I color in Pascal with green crayon. From the TV, they are talking about some nurses going on strike.

            “Why are the nurses striking?” I ask her as she puts away the dishes.

            “The hospital has unsafe working conditions,” she answers, turning to me. “There isn’t enough staff for the ratio of patients.”

            “The hospital refuses to hire more?” I ask her.

            “Something like that,” she answers. “I overheard a few months ago how they are cheap.”

            For dessert, we have some of the cake left over from yesterday. It’s a little stale compared to yesterday but it’s still good.

            That night, I go to sleep in my closet and I hear dad come in after the two buzzes as always.

            “Yeah, I can get her new jeans,” I hear him comment. “I have to go to Munising anyway tomorrow morning to go on that recycle run for you.”

            I can’t go with him, though. I have to remain indoors. And he says it all twisty. As if he’s her errand boy when it’s the exact opposite. Sarcasm.

            They don’t turn up the volume of the TV but I hear the bed creak. As if they are getting in bed.

            “Quite active in there,” I hear him comment. Probably has his hand on her stomach. “Reckon that it’s twins?”

            Mom says something that I don’t hear.

            “What’s wrong with twins?” he asks, as if her reply annoyed him. “One of them could be a boy. But then he would be outnumbered by two girls.”

             “Well it’s…” mom pauses…”its two times the work as one.”

            The bed squeaks. Dad’s voice goes low and I thought I hear mom breathe deeply. As if fingers were tightly around her throat. I know I should be in bed, but if he’s hurting her, I need to stop him. I sit up from my blankets and pillows; opening the door a crack.

            Everything goes silent and I thought I hear him say something inaudible. I fall back in bed, pulling the covers under my chin. That’s all I needed. Just to make some noise.

            “You woke her up,” mom whispered, indignation in her tone.

            “Don’t point the finger at me if it’s your fault.” He gets up from the bed. “Hey there, kiddo.” The closet door opens and he sticks his head in. “Did we wake you up?”

            “I was asleep until I heard you guys talking,” I answer. It’s not a lie and in fact I get woken up every time he comes in after bedtime. But I don’t tell him that.

            “Sorry about that,” he apologized. He paused before continuing, “Want to come in bed with us? Probably more comfortable then the cot.”

            I am more comfortable when it’s just me and mom. I don’t mind if he’s there but I rather have it be me and her. But if I join them in bed, he wouldn’t hurt her. So I leave the cot and head towards the bed, where mom is sitting down.

            Hands rubbing her neck, as if it was hurting.

            Mom lifts up the covers and I get in bed between them. Though I lean more closely to my mom then my dad.

            I love my parents but I wish that dad could stop hurting mom every once in a while.

 

* * *

 

            He leaves sometime around the middle of the night, but the buzzer indicating that the hatch is unlocked sounds around six. I know what that means: I can go upstairs and into the house (except that that I can’t go outside). Mom can’t go through the hatch right with her being hugely pregnant and all.

            “Is your neck okay?” I ask mom as I see her wrap a worn scarf around it. Like she doesn’t want me to see the bruises despite me seeing them. In fact, it’s not the first time that her neck is bruised. It would be bruised more often before she got pregnant. It seems that he likes to bruise her neck for some reason.

            “It’s okay.” She smiles. No she’s not! “Why don’t you go upstairs while you can? Your dad might be expecting to see you up there.”

            I want to argue. That I rather spend time with her but I want to walk around a big open space while I can before it’s time to stay down here again. So I crawl through the hatch. The room in the other side is my summer bedroom.

            I like it because unlike where mom and I stay from August to May, it has a window. Not to mention the poster of Pictured Rocks on the door. I have to pass through two other rooms before going up the stairs and opening the door to the first floor.

            Dad is out on his errands and Dani is at work or school, so it’s just me in here. Knowing that he must have a list for me (which probably he wrote after Dani leaves the house, of course) in the kitchen, I go there first and see it on the refrigerator:

            _Things for Madi to eat_

_Leftover mac and cheese_

_Leftover pizza from Vangos_

_Corned beef_

_Hamburger and penne casserole_

_Eggo Waffles_

_Orange juice_

            Mainly its things that are close to gone and something that she won’t notice. That she would think he finished up or took from. Stuff that he eats as well as I.

            I decide to be naughty. Heat up a slice of pepperoni pizza and a scoop of mac and cheese on a plate, along with orange juice to drink. Eating it at the kitchen table as I stare out the window. Looking at the leaves covering the ground outside.

            The windows are what they call privacy windows. We can look out but no one can look in. If they were to see something, it would be their own reflection. Mom says dad had regular windows before and replaced them with the privacy windows when I was four.

            It’s nice that I can look at the outside without being seen. Like the long driveway leading to the road and the trees surrounding the property. Almost all of them full of yellow, brown, and orange leaves.

            I am finished with breakfast when I hear and see dad’s mini-SUV enter the driveway. Probably back from his errands. I stay in the kitchen and clean up my cup and plate. Or else he’ll lecture me about leaving dirty dishes and cups behind.

            The door opens and I keep my mouth shut. Not a peep of me until he closes the door. Same with the basement apartment next to my summer bedroom.

            “I got your jeans for you,” I hear him say. “Something that I know that your mom wanted you to have.”

            He plops two bags on the kitchen table. One of them containing what must be my jeans. Dad pulls off his knit cap. “Mind if you help me with one of them while I get the other two bags from the car.”

            I sift through one of the bags. Hot dogs. Chips. Hamburgers. I know what that means. Tomorrow is that Packers Game, and he, Dani, and their friends are going to be watching it. I don’t get why a football team from Wisconsin is big in this part of Michigan.

            Probably because we are close to Wisconsin. Actually, I heard something about us being a part of Wisconsin one time.

            I help him pack his groceries away before I look through the bag where my jeans are contained. They have fake jewels on the front and back pockets.

            Then I think about the question that mom wanted me to ask dad.

            “Girls love that kind of stuff,” he comments. “Don’t you like bedazzled jeans?”

            “I do.” I stuff them back in the bag. “Can I ask you something, dad?”

            “Sure, kiddo,” he answers.

            “Can I go to see Dani in Traverse City during the summer?” I ask him.

            Something clatters on the floor and I look to see that it’s a can before he picks it up. “What was that?” he asked.

            “Can I go to see Dani in Traverse City during the summer?” I repeat.

            He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s a long way away from home,” he says. “Especially for a kid your age, Madi.”

            “I’m not going to go alone,” I insist. “You can take me or she can pick me up from here.”

            He pauses as if he’s thinking it over. “Maybe when you’re older,” he answers. “Because right now is not the right time for you.”

            That’s his way of saying _no_. That it’s not going to happen.

            “Why don’t you go try on your jeans while I go down to the basement?” he says after a minute. “That heater isn’t going to tune up itself.” 

            “Can I help you?” I ask.

            “This is a grown up’s job,” he answers abruptly. “You don’t want to find out what happens if you get underfoot.”

            I grumble under my breath as I head to the bathroom. I could hear him slam the basement door shut. Probably is going to lock it so I won’t go down and interfere with what he’s doing. Hopefully he doesn’t think that mom didn’t put me up to it and that he isn’t hurting her.

            I try on the jeans. They are loose around the ankles but not too bad. They fit just fine. I rip off the tag and put it in the bag. I’ll have to put the tags in the trash downstairs because I would get a lecture if I throw them in the bathroom trash.

            When I leave the bathroom, I try the basement door. It’s locked. I could try it but dad might find out, so I go and get the vacuum to clean up the living room carpet. Might as well do my chores while I’m up here.

            I hear the basement door open through the noise of the vacuum when I am nearly finished with the living room.

            “Hm, I didn’t need to ask you,” he said as I stopped the vacuum cleaner. “If only your mom was agreeable as much as you are.”

            I look at him. My mom said once that I was stubborn as she is, but the only reason I don’t pick arguments with him is to avoid a lecture. Mom says that he gets ugly if you say no, so she told me that it’s best if I do not argue with him.

            “She is very stubborn half the time, that is all,” he says, seeing my expression. “Not as bad as before you were born but she still has her moments.”

            The way he says it, it’s like he doesn’t want to her to be stubborn.

            By the time that I have to go downstairs before Dani gets back, mom is quiet. As if something scared her. She still has that scarf wrapped around her neck. She doesn’t say anything about my new jeans. What did dad say to her that scared her?

 

* * *

 

            Sunday. And it’s one of those days where mom just stays in bed. Her Gone Days I call them. She always has them but she’s been having more of them lately. This is her fourteenth one this year.

            In fact, she had a Gone Day on the eighth of October last year too. And today is October the eighth.

            I fix myself some applejack cereal and take my vitamin. Even if she’s in bed, I still want to take them. I can’t skip.

            I turn on the TV and the DVD player. Watching some more of _Tangled_. Mom hardly gets out of bed, except to go to the bathroom. She doesn’t eat either. Even if I put something by the bed, she won’t eat it.

            I hate it when she has these days. It’s lonely. And I don’t like it when she’s sad. It makes me sad. At eight o’clock PM, I snuggle in bed with her. Dad might come down but I’m going to stay in bed anyway.

            He doesn’t come down that night.

 

* * *

 

            “Was he like this when I was growing in your stomach?” I ask her the next morning over breakfast.

            Mom shakes her head. “No,” she answers. “He was more…careful.”

            Probably didn’t want to find a wrong word for it.

            Monday lessons slip by and for the final class, we have reading. I read aloud _Alice In Wonderland_ , which is from the red painted bookshelf next to the dresser. The top shelf has books with pictures and other kid books while the bottom shelf has what they call grown up books. Mom only reads them if she is desperate.

            As I read, mom straightens everything. Eventually pausing before putting away the _Tangled_ movie back in the movie basket.

            Mom sits down at the chair across from me. “Madi?” she asks. “If I tell you that something shouldn’t be normal, would you listen?”

            Is it about her and dad? “Yes, mom,” I answer.

             “Madi, remember Rapunzel from _Tangled_?” mom asked me as she straightened in her chair. “How she got in the Tower?”

            “Mother Gothel kidnapped her for her hair so she could stay young,” I answered.

            “Well, I was like Rapunzel,” she answered. “I was taken against my will. I wasn’t a toddler, though, I was sixteen. Thing is, your dad stole me.”

            Dad stole her? Stole as in kidnapped her? “Like he kidnapped you?” I ask her.

            “Yes,” she answers, nodding. “It was three days after I turned sixteen, back in 2007. I was walking to one of my friend’s houses to get a ride for school. Because that’s what my friends and I did, we would carpool to school. Then he honks at me. Asking me if I needed a ride to school.”

            “Was he a stranger or did you know him?” I ask.

            “I knew him, well, I wasn’t too close to him,” she answered. “His ex-wife was classmates was my…I guess you would call them your grandparents. I spoke to him maybe five times before then.”

            She never mentioned grandparents, but I still want to hear this story. I can ask for that story tomorrow.

            “So you went in his car?” I ask her.

            “Yeah.” She nods and her eyes are wet. “I got in his car and five minutes later, when I reached in my purse to contact my friends that I was going to get a ride from school, he stunned me with a Taser and drugged me with a soaked cloth. Hours later, I woke up here.”

            “What is a Taser?” I ask her.

            “It is one of those black things with an electric current that shocks people,” she answers. “He used that to numb me before knocking me out with a drug soaked cloth.”

            I think about the bruises on her neck. Shocking her and making her numb is what dad would probably do to her. It doesn’t surprise me that he kidnapped her and locked her up in here, since he doesn’t treat her good from time to time.

            “I tried to attack him with a butter knife of all things the first night,” she continued, shaking her head. “He grabbed my arm and ripped the knife from my hand. Then he knocked me to the floor before pinning me to the ground. He told me that if I wanted what was best for me, that I do as he says.”

            She tried attacking him with a butter knife? That is interesting. Though I bet he didn’t like it, especially if she said he pinned her to the floor. “Did he leave bruises on your neck too?”

            “Yes, and I thought he was going to choke me to death until he let me go,” she answered.

            “Why did he lock you up in his basement?” I ask her.

            “You know how he is with me,” she answers. “He just wanted someone to control and own. Just like Mother Gothel with Rapunzel.”


	3. Escape

I don’t notice if dad comes in last night. I just notice that I was in the closet when I went to sleep and was beside mom when I woke up.

            “It’s that why you were depressed before I came?” I ask her. “Depressed because dad kidnapped you and locked you up here?”

            “Mmmhmm,” she says as she nods. “Sleeping and drawing were my escapes. That was before he supplied me with a television. I would draw pictures of my friends and family so I wouldn’t forget what they looked like. And I would draw pictures of places where I wanted to go but can’t.”

            She’s talking about some of the pictures on the cork tile walls but I don’t see pictures with people on them. “Where are the portraits at?”

            “Hidden under my mattress,” she answers. “I didn’t want him to see and I don’t want him to see. I was afraid that he would destroy it.”

            We get up from the bed and prepare for breakfast. This morning it’s something called Canadian bacon with cheesy eggs and hash browns.

            “Can you tell me another story?” I ask her. “One about your mom and dad? About your family and friends?”

            Mom raises her eyebrow. “You sure you want to hear that one, Madi?” she asks me.

            “I want to hear something from before you were locked up here,” I answer.

            It’s like she thinks about it for a moment before she smiles. “Alright, Madi,” she says. “Since you asked nicely. I was born in Traverse City.”

            “Where Dani lives?” I ask her.

            She nods. “And my parents and I lived in a nice big house in the start of the Old Mission peninsula,” she continues. “My mom was a doctor and my father was an engineer. There was this girl named Raven who my parents adopted when she was ten and I was nine. She would be your aunt. She’s probably twenty-seven now.”

            “What was the house like?” I ask her.

            “It looked like a log cabin on the outside,” she answered. “It had a nice big pool at the back as well as a hot tub. The attic had a skylight and my dad and I would look through a telescope to see the stars. My girlfriend and I would pitch sleeping bags to look at the stars.”

            “A skylight on a roof?” I ask her.

            “Yes,” she answers. “It was one of my favorite things of the house. If I could, I would be there right now and draw under the skylight.”

            “Maybe we can go there somehow,” I say.

            Mom sighs. “Hopefully soon,” she says. “Knowing your dad, he’ll never let that happen.”

            Just like Mother Gothel and how she didn’t want Rapunzel to look at the floating lights.

            “Have you tried going back home?” I ask her.

            “Well, you know that hatch?” she asked. “Two months after he took me, he left it unlocked. I thought that he was careless, and I decided to take the chance and get out. What I didn’t know was that he was waiting for me by the basement door. He was testing me and I took the bait.” She shudders. “The week that followed was so horrible that I don’t feel like discussing it with you now.”

            I wonder what dad that would make her to be afraid to discuss it. It must have been that bad.

            “And remember that one time last year where dad told you that I accidentally fell from his car because I didn’t latch the door well?” mom continued.

            I nod.

            “I actually jumped from his car,” she answers. “But he got out of the car and grabbed me before I could even think to run.”

            So, it wasn’t an accident. Mom was trying to get out and go home.

            We had lessons as usual. Tuesday was drawing day and mom chosen flowers. I pick lilacs. They are better than roses.

            “I had the same group of friends from Elementary school to high school,” she said. “Lexa Woodward, who later became my girlfriend, Bellamy Blake, his sister Octavia, Finn Collins, Monty Green, Jasper Jordan, and of course Raven. Monty and Jasper would play music in Monty’s attic. They had sound insulation tiles like these.” She points to the ceiling. “So they could play as loud as they want.”

            When she continues talking about her friends from her past, I learned that Bellamy was into something that mom called Greek Mythology, Finn Collins was a dare devil, and Raven liked fixing things. She didn’t say too much about Lexa, only that she was on basketball.

            Though when she talks about her, her eyes are glassy just like when she talks about grandma and grandpa. Like it’s painful.

            I look up at the ceiling, remembering what mom said about how these tiles were what her friends used to block out music. If they block out music, they can block us out. Thinking about how mom tries scrapping at them.

            “Were you trying to remove tiles a few nights ago?” I ask.

            “Yes. In my first year here, I thought about it and I attempted it for the first time,” she says to me. “I thought that if I successfully pry some of them off, that I might be able scream for help without being filtered out. The only thing that I achieved was breaking my nails. I still try every few nights, with a knife. To see if I can actually pry some off.”

            He must have sealed them real good then if mom’s nails broke. And if she still can’t get some off.

            “Did he find out when you first tried?” I ask.

            “No,” she answers. “For some reason he didn’t find out.”

           

* * *

 

Dad comes down a couple hours after I go to bed as usually and it takes five minutes before the TV volume is turned up. I count my fingers to forty until I fall asleep.

            I don’t know how much time has passed until I hear the table and the chairs scrapping against the floor accompanied by my dad talking. Saying how he’s going to be late for work and all.

            I stayed here the whole night but it’s not the first time that it happened. Dad would stay the whole night from time to time.

            Eventually, I can hear mom moving around the kitchen as the local news blares from the television. The microwave going the _beep beep_ before she opens it. Probably taking a sip of her coffee before gathering breakfast.

            I yawn and I stretch. Having the intention to go out there and help mom with the breakfast until the closet door opens. She peeks her head in, all excited. “Madi, come see this!” she shouts.

            Wondering what got her excited, I leave the cot and follow her from the closet into the pantry/laundry room. “See?” she asks, pointing to the light by the hatch, which is a bright green instead of red. “The light is green. What color is it usually when it’s locked?”

            “Red,” I answer. I remember mom’s story about how dad tricked her into thinking that he forgot to unlock the hatch. “What if it’s just another trick and he’s waiting to see if we take the bait?”

            Mom shrugs. “It could be, but I doubt he miss work just to test us,” she says. “He seemed upset that he overslept by a half hour. Can you go to the kitchen and get out a butter knife? I need something to pry the door open.”

            I run and get one from the drawer. She takes it after I hand it to her. I watch as she puts the blade in the crack. It’s like something wooden is against the hatch based on the scratching sound it makes as mom pries open the hatch.

            It opens easily but there is something like a board blocking it. Mom says something under her breath and she turns to me. “Can you help me slide this?” asks mom.

            Prying open the hatch looked easy but sliding the wood was harder. As if something was on it or in it. Maybe it’s the bookshelf in my summer room. That would explain it.

            “Okay, that’s enough,” she pants as the back of the bookshelf is moved halfway. “Go out and see if the door is unlocked.”

            My heart goes _thump thump thump_ as I crawl on the floor. My elbows on the carpet of the summer bedroom as I slide out. It’s a dark blue at the window. As if the sun is coming up.

            I quickly get on my feet and rush to the door. It’s unlocked! Dad was definitely in a hurry today.

            “It’s unlocked,” I tell her.

            “Good,” she calls out. “Do you remember the address?”

            I nod. “Three One Nine Gagarin Avenue,” I answer. I have seen it on his bills, and I have memorized it.

            “If the basement door is locked and if he isn’t there, I don’t want you to go back,” she says. “Go through the backyard to the neighbors and get help. Say that daddy is hurting mommy and has got her locked up somewhere in the house.”

            But without mom? I can’t leave her here.

            “What about you?” I ask her.

            “If I could I would, but I can’t fit through the hatch right now,” she says, her face urgent. Oh, that’s right. She can’t fit through. “The neighbors will call the police and you’ll give them the address. They’ll come for me after you tell them everything.”

            “What do I tell the neighbors?” I ask her.

            “What I told you,” she answers. “Now, go. Slide the bookshelf in case he comes back.”

            I nod. Tears coming as she pushes the hatch shut. It’s easier to slide the bookshelf from this side then the other. Probably because I’m grabbing the shelf. I close the bedroom door behind me and run through the rooms before reaching the top of the basement stairs.

            It’s unlocked. And I could hear my breath as I open the door and close it behind me. Quietly making my way to the backdoor in case Dani was upstairs. I open the screen door and close it behind me. Dad hasn’t been here to see and stop me, so he must be at work for real.

            There are some spots of snow on the ground unlike Saturday. My bare feet touching the cold soil.

            Go to neighbors. Say that dad has been hurting mom and has got her locked up. Police will be called and they will come. Three months ago, new neighbors moved to the house that was for sale during the summer. Maybe they could help.

            I run. The stones and twigs on my feet as I run through the trees. Tears come as I think about mom still trapped there. What if dad doesn’t just make sure that the doors are locked but he also makes sure that we’re both there?

            I don’t want him to hurt mom. He can’t hurt mom. I won’t let him hurt mom.

            In no time I find the house. It slightly resembles the house that dad lives in but its light brown instead of green. And the lights are on. That means someone is home.

            Tears cloud by vision as I make out the backdoor.

            _Bam! Bam! Bam!_

            I pound on the door as hard as I can. I can hear the same news station playing that was on our television. A woman with curly brown hair comes to the door. Looking concerned as she opens it.

            “Is there…is everything, ok?” she asks after taking another look at me.

            “My dad has been hurting mom,” I cry, feeling the tears all hot and wet. “He has her locked up.”

            “Your daddy is hurting your mom?” she asks, all concerned.

            “Yes and for quite some time now,” I say.

            “Come in,” she says before pulling me in the house. I step inside a kitchen but I stay where I stand as this woman picks up her phone and dial a number. “Yes, a girl has just knocked on my door. Says that her dad has been hurting her mom and has her locked up in a room…she’s in my kitchen right now…okay, okay. I most certainly will.”

            The strange woman looks at me and encourages, “Have a seat, sweetie. Had you have a breakfast?”

            I shake my head ‘no’, though I feel numb. I don’t feel hungry. I just want the police to come so that they could get mom out of dad’s house. Before dad can think to hurt mom.

            The nice lady pulls out a bowl from one of her cupboards and prepares me cereal anyway. I am not hungry but I force down a few spoonfuls.

            “My name is Luna,” she introduces as she sits down. “What is your name, sweetheart?”

            “Madi,” I sniff.

            “It’s going to be ok, Madi,” she says in assurance. “The police are on their way and they will get your mom out.”

I see a girl about my age peer through the door. “Mom?” she asks.

Luna turns to the door. “It’s okay, Adria. I have to stay with Madi here before the police arrive.”

“Are we in trouble?” she asks.

“No,” she answers. “Her dad is being mean to her mom.”

The spoon continues to shake in my hand as I force down another few bites. Police. Tell them my address. Answer questions. Rescue mom.

Mom still in the basement room. Probably pacing like when she does when she’s worried. Hopefully dad doesn’t come home right now and finds out that I ran off for help.

_Knock. Knock._

Luna jumps from her seat and I move my spoon around in my cereal. Butterflies filling my stomach.

I hear her talking softly to someone before I see two people in police uniform. I just continue stirring my cereal. “We’re at Three One Seven Gagarin Avenue,” says a woman officer. “Resident reported a girl banging on her kitchen door for help. Most likely domestic.”

“Hi, Madi,” the male police officer says as he sits across from me. I look up at him. He’s a tired but nice looking man with dark skin. “I am Officer Miller. Can you tell me how old you are?”

“Nine,” I answer.

“Nine years old, great,” he answers. “Can you tell me your address?”

“Three One Nine Gagarin Avenue,” I answer.

The woman officer enters something on a tablet as I’m asked, “Is your dad your mom’s husband?”

I shake my head no.

“Is he her boyfriend?” he asks.

No.

“Three One Nine Gagarin Avenue,” speaks the lady officer. “Paxton McCreary. DOB three five seventy-two. Arrested for aggravated sexual assault back in ninety-eight but charges were dropped.”

What does the last sentence mean?

“Okay, thanks, Kara.” Officer Miller turns to me. “Madi, can you tell me how long your dad has been hurting your mom? At what point he locked her up?”

Answer questions. Rescue mom.

“He has been hurting her before I was born,” I answer, voice all raspy. “He had her locked up before I was born.”

He writes something down. Locked up before birth. Possible captive situation. “Can you describe how long he would have her locked up for?” he asks me.

“Only when his daughter comes over for college,” I answer. “Otherwise he lets us out on days where he’s not working and when she’s not in the house.”

Shoot. They are going to think that I’m lying. Probably the lady officer because she’s narrowing her eyes.

“Can you describe what part of the house this is?”

“The basement. It’s behind a hatch and sliding bookcase,” I say. “He forgot to lock them this morning before he went off to work.”

“If it’s behind a bookshelf, how did you get out?” asks Kara.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. He looks back at me.

“We had to pry the shelf open and we could only slide the bookshelf halfway from behind,” I answer. “I had to slide it back in place in case he came back.” Then I add. “Mom can’t get out because she can’t fit through the hatch right now. Her stomach is too big for it.”

He nods and says, “Thank you, Madi.” He turns to his radio. “Hostage situation at Three One Nine Gagarin Avenue. Requesting backup. Victim is most likely heavily pregnant and can’t fit through entryway.”

She is pregnant.

“We need to get there before my dad does,” I sniff. “He’s going to hurt my mom if he does more than lock the hatch.”

Officer Miller and Officer Kara lead me out of the house and towards a police car. Am I in trouble?

“Have you ridden in a squad car before?” he asks me.

“No,” I answer. That’s where bad people go.

“Today is your lucky day.” He opens the door and I step inside. He sits next to me.

Sirens blare as we drive out of Luna’s driveway and towards the road. And it doesn’t take long for them to drive down my dad’s driveway. I don’t see his or Dani’s car. Good.

Mom is still safe.

He gets out of the car and says something to Kara before walking towards the house. I see a another cop car drive in. “It’s okay, Madi. We’ll get your mom.”

I crawl to the other side of the car, watching as Officer Miller goes in the house with another cop. Hopefully they know where it is. Otherwise they will think that I’m lying.

My fingers touch the glass on the door as I watch. A couple cop cars have come and one more has entered the house while a few more walk around the property. As if there is something outside.

Mom. I want to see my mom.

I try the handle but it’s locked. I want to see her.

An officer goes out of the house and gets something from the trunk of his car. It’s a strange object with something metal on it. Are they going to use it to get mom out? I stay glued to the window, tears pouring from my eyes.

Please come out, mom. Please, be free.

It feels like forever. It probably is forever.

Then I see her. Mom, mom, mom! I try on the doorknob as she runs towards the car. Shouting something. Her eyes wide. I want to get out and hug her. I want to touch her.

Mom’s trying on the door and she shouts as she turns to the officer nearest her. Still shouting as she returns to trying to open the door.

The door opens and she grabs me before I try to get out. Her body shaking with sobs as she holds me in a tight hug. I hold onto her tight as she hugs me.

Now that mom’s free, where will we go now?


	4. Hospital

They take us to a large brown building across from the local news station. Which is why they probably sneak us through the back.

            And they said something about how it might be comfortable for us here as an arrest would be made. That they don’t want to risk having us at the same county jail as dad.

            “Now, would you mind separating from your mom while we get a statement from her?” I am asked by Officer Miller.

            “Statement?” I ask.

            “It’s just what we do after situations like this,” a lady cop explains. “After she is done with that and after she calls her parents, we’ll take you two to get checked out.”

            “Nothing happened to Madi,” mom counters. “If anything it was me.”

            “It’s just that she needs to get checked over as well,” she tells mom. “See that her tonsils are good, that she doesn’t have any health issues.”

            Mom nods after a moment of considering it. “Alright,” she says. Mom turns to me. “I should see you soon. Right now, I need to speak with the police about what happened.”

            She goes into another room with two police officers while I’m led to another room. Probably the front office because of the plaque. “What do you like to do?” I’m asked. “Do you like to draw? Play a game?”

            “Draw,” I answer. It might help pass the time as I wait for mom while she’s talking to the police. They give me pencil and a few pieces of paper.

            I might try and draw Flynn Ryder. Or is it Eugene Fitzherbert?

            “That was brave what you did,” I am told. “Getting out of there and sending for help when he could have walked in on any moment to check the locks.”

            They are talking about dad. When they come get him, is he going to know why he’s being arrested? What about Dani? What will her reaction be when she sees cop cars at the house? Will they think she did it too?

            “Dad is going to jail isn’t he?” I ask I start on the outline of Eugene’s head and shoulders.

            “With stuff like this, he will be locked up for the rest of his life,” she says, “and that means that he won’t hurt your mom again.”

            That is good. She’s free from him. That’s what is important.

            The only thing I can’t get right is Eugene’s nose. Just like the people that made the wanted posters in the movie. Perhaps no one is meant to get his nose right. Anyways, I finish that drawing and make another one.

            This time of Pascal.

            I look at the clock every now and then. Aware of people coming and going. How long has it been since mom went to talk to the police? One hour? Two hours?

            Eventually, I see her leaving that room with Officer Miller and two other police officers. All of them going into what looks like another office. Maybe to call grandma.

I think about dad’s house and the room in the basement. Are police joined by detectives? That’s what happens in that show that mom watches from time to time.

“Are detectives there yet?” I ask.

“At this time, probably,” the woman officer. “A crime investigation unit will be involved.”

 

* * *

 

Mom and I are escorted to a black van at the back of the building. They gave us white clogs to wear since we have no shoes. She’s biting her fingernails and I squeeze her hand hoping that she wouldn’t be nervous.

Because she’s always biting her nails when she is nervous or anxious.

“Due to what’s going on with Marquette General, we decided that the best course of action is to take you two to Bell Memorial Hospital in Ishpeming,” someone explains to us as the van begins to drive. I see a news van pass us. Are they headed to dad’s house? “Sometimes with strikes, the requests aren’t always met.”

The hospital is behind the Jim’s Jubilee grocery store. There is blue sign right by the long driveway to the big building but it’s not as big as the outside of Marquette General. I have only seen the outside of that hospital where the nurses stroke.

When we leave the van, we meet someone in those white doctor suits that I have seen on television. “Welcome to Bell Memorial Hospital,” greets the woman doctor. She has light brown skin. “I am Dr. Patel.” She smiles as she shakes our hands. Dr. Patel looks at me as she pulls out something white from her pocket. “Due to the circumstances, it’s best if she wears this.”

“A mask?” mom asks, frowning. “She has been outside beforehand.”

“Even if she has been exposed to everything, I doubt she was in a hospital around certain pathogens,” she says. “Until she gets her immunizations, it’s best to be on the safe side.”

Mom bites her lip before nodding. The mask snaps around my face. It’s too snug around my mouth.

They lead us into what looks like a large lobby. There is something with glass windows that says gift shop. Dr. Patel says to mom, “Now it’s imperative that you get your ultrasound before we perform evidence collection. To make sure everything is alright in there. How far along do you think you are? You look like you might pop.”

“I think it’s been seven months.” Mom rubs her hand on her stomach. “It has to be. I just think that there are twins in there.”

“We will find out when we have the ultrasound.” Dr. Patel turns to me. “Would you like to come with your mom? Kids above seven are allowed in the room.”

To see the babies inside mom? “Okay,” I answer.

 “You will find out today,” I am told.

We are led to another room with equipment that I have seen on TV a few times.

A new person that comes in the room has mom stand on a scale. She writes something down. “Five pounds underweight for someone of your size. Luckily, you’ll be able to pack those pounds soon.”

I didn’t know that one must be certain weight to carry a baby or babies.

They tell mom that a specialist will be with her soon. To drink two bottles of water.

“What is the water for?” I ask her.

“It helps them look inside, Madi,” she answers as she steps out of her sweat shirt and sweat pants. She puts them along with her underwear in a bag before stepping into a gown. “It’s like looking through a window.”

I nod as I look around the room. There are posters with diagrams of babies growing in stomach’s and other things. The clock says 10:40.

“Are you okay?” mom asks me.

I just nod. I never been in a hospital before but it’s better than being in a basement from August to May during most of the time. I didn’t like being hidden when my older sister came for school.

“What are they going to do with Dani?” I ask. “Are they going to throw her in jail too?”

“Well, they might take her to the station and get a statement from her regarding her knowledge,” she answers. “They will let her off when they see that not she’s involved. Speaking of Dani, I should have known that he would never let you step foot in Traverse City. Even if it was for a month.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

“He probably thought you might say something that would raise alarm, like speaking casually about being in a basement when she is out of earshot,” she says. “Also, the reason why he wanted to keep me hidden is because he was afraid your sister might recognize me. Her mom knows my mom and vice versa.”

“Are they friends?” I ask.

“More like acquaintances,” she answers. “’They never got along in school but that didn’t stop mom from inviting Dani to my sixteenth birthday party.”

We wait for what seems like a hundred minutes until the door opens. A man with brown greying hair comes in. “Good morning, Clarke Griffin,” he tells my mom as he shakes her hand. “I’m Dr. Aaron Sharp. I’ll be performing your ultrasound today.” He turns to me and introduces himself to me. His hand is cold. Maybe doctor’s hands are cold.

“Now, are there any complications that you are worried about?” he asks mom. “This is your first ultrasound.”

“No.” Mom shifts on the table. “I don’t think so.”

“Were there any difficulties with your first pregnancy? With the birth?”

He is talking about me.

“My pregnancy for Madi went well,” she answers. “It was the birth that was hard. The cord got strangled around her neck.” she snorted. “He knew that he couldn’t take me to a hospital, so he educated himself on home deliveries.”

Mom never told me that story.

He writes something down on a piece of paper.

Eventually, mom lies down, and they lift the gown she has on. Putting something sticky on the lower part of her stomach. The lights turn off as a he has a white thing moving over her belly.

The picture is grainy with black and blue colors. Two shapes are in the blue area. They must be the babies in my mom.

It is twins!

“As you can see, there are two in there,” Dr. Sharp tells mom. “Twins.”

She nods. “I suspected as much. Madi wasn’t that active when I was pregnant with her. I swelled up pretty quickly.”

“Other than that, everything looks good in there,” he tells her. “Nothing that we should be worried about. Everything looks how it should be at twenty-eight weeks. Boy and girl are in tip top shape.”

“A boy and a girl,” mom repeats. She says it in a tone as if she doesn’t know how to process it. Probably because dad correctly guessed that one of them was a boy.

 

* * *

 

After the ultrasound, I had to go the lobby. A grown-up evaluation, they said. That they will discuss the details with her out of earshot.

They have the Today Show playing on the television. The hosts are interviewing someone that I don’t know the name but who I only know is a celebrity. As it gets boring to watch, I pick up one of those magazines that have recipes and stuff.

They are taking a long time with that “evidence collection.”

I hear the local news theme and I look up to see Sophie Erber. She does the usual greeting and statement that it’s the local news minute. Then I see dad’s house. Only I see the yellow crime tape outside his house, with a few more people walking around the property. “A twenty-six year old woman and her daughter are safe after years of captivity in the basement of Three One Nine Gagarin Avenue. An arrest has been made and more details will be released when available.”

An arrest. That means that they arrested dad. Was he surprised when cops showed up at his mining site? Or was he angry because he thought that he would get away with it because he kept mom locked up for so long?

Maybe it’s both?

 

* * *

 

“They talked about us a little bit on TV,” I tell mom after they lead us to a hospital room where we will. They gave us our lunch in here too. Roast beef and mashed potatoes.

“What did it say?” she asked.

“Just that a mom and her daughter are now safe after years of captivity and that an arrest has been made,” I answer as I put some roast beef in my mouth.

She doesn’t say anything at first. “Good,” she says. “That means we can sleep well at night knowing that he is locked up.”

“What if they let him out of jail?” I ask.

“No, he’s in there forever,” she says. “They are just going to move him from the county jail to the state prison.”

Like with black robed judges and everything? Like some of the news clips that I have seen on the local news? I try to imagine dad in an orange jumpsuit standing before a judge.

“Are you upset that one of the babies is a boy?” I ask after I think about when they looked into her stomach. “That dad was right about it?”

Mom chuckled. “No, Madi,” she answers. “Just because he correctly assumed that one of them was a boy, it doesn’t change anything. I’m just happy that you’ll be getting a brother and sister at once.”

There was a knock on the door and in came Officer Miller and Officer Kara. “How is everything?” he asked.

“We are doing great,” mom answers. “All Madi has to do is get a checkup after lunch.”

I don’t know how I feel about getting checked out. It seems unpleasant.

“Are you looking forward to your check up, Madi?” he asks.

I shake my head and return to my lunch. They chuckle, and I don’t know what’s so amusing about it. They tell my mom about dad’s arrest and said that a lawyer from Traverse City would be coming up to meet us.

“Why far away?” I ask her when they leave.

“Because since we will be going back there in a couple of days, it will make it easier for us,” she answered. “Besides, Traverse City is only five hours from here.”

Still that’s far away.

After lunch, we meet with Dr. Patel. Who has me step on a scale before checking my height. She puts a light into my ears, has my eyes follow a light, makes me squeeze her fingers, she checks my throat, and checks my breathing.

She asks me questions, like what is my favorite movie and stuff.

“You like Tangled?” she asks. “My daughter still loves that movie and she’s fifteen. Then again you can’t outgrow children’s shows.”

I didn’t know that grownups like children’s movies.

“Everything seems okay, but we’ll still have to perform blood work and immunizations,” she tells mom. “I will get an order for those and hopefully the earliest should be tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“Which will I get first?” I ask.

“We will check your blood first before we give you your shots,” she answers.

Needles tomorrow. Hopefully I don’t get sick and throw up.

 

* * *

 

They give us an each a set of pajamas before dinner. Mom throws away my sweat pants and turtleneck as I change into the ones given to us by the hospital. The turtleneck was getting holes in the back, so I’m not upset about that.

But the pants I wanted to keep. They were Halloween themed.

“We will get you new ones soon,” she said. “These ones were getting ratty at the bottom.”

“You could cut the edges,” I point out.

“They were getting thin in certain areas too,” she says.

Why does mom always beat me too it? Though sometimes she’s right.

We eat chicken enchiladas for dinner and watch that old show about a dysfunctional family on one of the local channels. Mom said one time that the actress was younger then the character that she portrayed.

I still don’t understand why a young person would play an old lady.

When it’s bedtime, we get in one of the hospital beds. It’s nice that I can get in bed with mom instead of starting out in a closet. The bars make it a little narrow but I manage. Besides, I’m close enough to feel my brother and sister moving in there.

“Madi?” she asks me as I’m falling asleep.

“Yes, mom?” I ask.

“Do you want to know why I told you the truth before we happened to escape?” she asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Well, I was planning something else,” she says. “Planning a different method then what actually happened.”

“What were we going to do?” I ask.

Mom smiles. “Originally, I was thinking of having you fake a high fever,” she says. “That way he would have no choice but to take you to the hospital.”

I raise my eyebrow? How does one fake a fever? “How were you going to fake a fever for me?” I asked.

“I was going to boil water and put it on your face,” she answers. “That way your temperature would be like a hundred and twenty and that you be very hot to the touch.”

Scalding hot water on me. Ugh. That would have been uncomfortable, even if we had to get out. Though I would have gone along with it just we could get out and for mom to get home. But I liked what happened better. “I like how it actually happened better,” I say.

“Me too, Madi,” she says as she strokes my hair. “Me, too. And Madi, things are going to be tougher now but we will be together and that will matter.”

“And we will have the babies too.” I say.

“The babies too,” she says.


	5. The First Reunion

It’s different waking up in the hospital room then the secret room in the basement. It’s lighter here. I can actually see the outside from here! I never liked that the basement room never had a window.

            Dad was holding mom hostage so it might make sense that he would never give her a window. Though don’t dungeons usually have windows with bars?

            We are given pancakes, grapes, and cantaloupe for breakfast. Mom has the TV turned to a cooking network. Where a smiling woman with red hair is making something that looks good.

            I am halfway through my pancakes when someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” says mom.

            The door opens and in comes the nursing assistant that was assigned to us. “How is your morning?” she asks us.

            “Excellent,” mom answers as she sets her plate on the sliding table. “After we are done with breakfast, we will be getting ready for Madi’s blood work and her immunizations.”

            “You are in no rush,” she says. “You have a visitor. Someone that you might want to meet.”

            The nurse steps out of the room and in comes an older woman with dark blonde hair restrained at the top. Her eyes widening at the sight of mom. As if she doesn’t believe what she is seeing.

            “Clarke,” she says.                                   

            “Mom?” mom asks, in that voice that I can tell that she’s about to cry. She has the same disbelief that this woman (who happens to be my grandma) has. Yet she appears happy too.

            They rush to each other and I watch as they hug each other. Both crying into each other’s shoulders. I want to go over there and join but this is mom’s moment. That would be rude.

            Grandma drew back and looked at mom. Wiping her eyes. “I was thinking about you the other day,” she says. “That you were out there and that you would find your way home. Then I received a call yesterday, and I didn’t want to believe it at first. It had been so long, I…”

            “Mom, I didn’t think that this day would happen either,” mom rasps. “It was too painful to dwell on it. Now I see you.”

            Mom turns to me, her eyes still red with tears. “Madi, this is your grandma,” she introduces. “Mom, this is my daughter, Madelyn Abigail. Madi for short.”

            She turns her gaze to me and curls her lips into a smile. “Hi, Madi,” she says, taking a step forward. “Thank you.” She clasps my hands with hers before pulling me into a hug. I stiffen up. “Thank you for saving my daughter.”

            I didn’t save her. We escaped and the police came to help. All I did was run to the neighbors and say that mom was being hurt by dad and had her locked up by him.

            “It’s okay, Madi,” mom says as if she senses my apprehension. “She only has been hugged by two people before.”

            The other person was dad but mom is not going to tell.

            “Of course, I’m sorry,” grandma apologizes.

            “No, mom, you’re fine.” Mom looks around the room. As if someone is missing. “Where’s dad?”

            Grandma face gets pale and she swallows. “Clarke, I know this isn’t the news I should tell you.”

            She sits mom down and tells her a story. Seven years ago, grandpa died in a car crash on his way to work. The police called grandma at her workplace. She thought that it was about mom until they said that it was about her husband. “He always knew that we would find you,” grandma tells mom as mom cries into her shoulder. “He never gave up hope.”

            Mom says something to which I don’t understand through the sobs. I continue to rub her shoulder. “Don’t cry, mom,” I say.

            “Even if he’s not here with us, I’m sure he’ll know and be happy,” grandma tries to assure. “He would have loved Madi and he would have loved the next child.”

            Mom continues sobbing, though it quiets down. I place my head on her shoulders, hoping that it would help. And I think that it did.

 

* * *

 

            They send me for my blood work half an hour later. Mom, her eyes red from crying, follows me as planned. Though grandma follows too. I really don’t want a needle to poke me and draw my blood.

            “I wish I didn’t have to do this,” I say through the mask as I sit on the chair.

            “It is what we do in special situations like yours, sweetie,” says Dr. Patel as they put a table on my lap.

            “They just have to make sure that your cholesterol is okay and that you don’t have diabetes,” says grandma. “You look healthy but it’s good that they check these things.”

            “She is not looking forward to her immunizations,” says mom as Dr. Patel ties a blue ribbon around my arm. “Kind of like me when I got my shots.”

            Mom and grandma talk about me for a bit. Mom says how I was her seventeenth birthday present and all. Then they talk about Aunt Raven. Grandma says that she’s an airplane mechanic now and is married to a pilot from Saginaw. And that they have a five year old son named Tyler. “Cutest boy that I have ever seen,” says grandma. 

            I wince as the needle goes into my arm. “It’s alright,” says Dr. Patel. “I’m just going to do two and you’ll be on your way.”

            She fills two small tubes with my blood and puts a cotton ball on the hole when she’s done. And she puts a _Frozen_ band aid with Olaf on it. _Frozen_ is good but _Tangled_ is better.

            Mom and grandma talk as we leave the blood lab. This time about the babies in mom’s stomach. “How far along are you?” she asks her.

            “Seven months,” mom answered. “Everything is good in there, they said. Boy and girl are healthy.”

            “So, twins then?” she says. “You are going to have a busy first few months by the time they are born.”

            “They will keep me on my toes, alright,” she says. “I had to get out before they were born. I just wish that I didn’t wait until now.”

            “The timing doesn’t matter. It’s a good thing that you got out when you did. The chances of infant survival regarding twins in an event of an unassisted birth are iffy at best, even if hospitals are no guarantee of a safe and healthy birth.”

“I know that,” mom says. “I knew it was time to escape. That is all.”

            We return to the hospital room, though grandma steps out. Talking about speaking with Dr. Patel about doctors and dentists before she makes a call to Raven and someone named Marcus. Mom explained that Marcus is her mom’s friend. That they are married now.

            “What does grandma mean about infant survival being iffy?” I ask mom.

            “It means that there is a chance that one of the babies could have died,” mom says. “Things can still go wrong in hospitals but it’s more uncertain in situations where there’s only one or two people during the baby’s birth.”

            If hospitals have a hard time too, why are they always concerned about babies being born at home when it’s just the mom giving birth with the daddy helping? “Does that mean that they are both bad?” I ask.

            “Sometimes it’s doctor negligence or something goes wrong with the baby,” mom answers.  “Though it’s better for a baby to be born in a hospital.”

            I was born in that room in dad’s basement and I turned out okay. I didn’t have any problems.

            At some point, after grandma made her calls after talking with Dr. Patel (“She is going to fax information to my OBGYN and our family doctor”, said grandma. “And she’s going to help arrange dental and eye appoints.”

            “So, how soon can we go home?” Clarke asks.

            “Hopefully, as early as Saturday,” said grandma. “They will be connecting you with a specialist there.”

            What kind of specialist?), we are met by two people in suits. One is a woman with dark blonde hair and light tan skin. The second person is a man with brown hair that brushes his shoulder; his skin is lighter then hers and he’s got a mustache and a scuff of a beard. They seem older then mom but not too old.

            They shake our hands. Introducing themselves as Anya Savin and Roan Kingston.

            “We did some preemptive work before I got here, if you didn’t mind.” She nods towards me. “Solely just to make sure that her identity doesn’t get leaked out. You don’t want crazies to get any ideas.”

            “Good,” says mom. “That is one less thing to worry about.”

            “Why can’t they know about me?” I ask.

            “Standard procedure,” answers Mr. Kingsley. “Though as a father myself, I would have made sure that my daughter’s identity wasn’t leaked out either.”

             And it seems they are sending for me to get my shots, for Colleen as at the door.

            “I’ll go with her,” grandma offers.

            I want mom to go with me. I only just met grandma this morning, but it wouldn’t be polite for mom to argue with the lawyer there. So, I go.

            “Perfect timing,” grandma says as we leave the room. “That gives them a chance to discuss adult subjects about the situation.”

            Adult subjects. I know that dad kidnapped mom back when she was sixteen so he can control her and own her. Is there more that they don’t want me to know? “What adult subjects?” I ask.

            “There are things that happened that are best explained when you are older,” she says.

            “Like worse than leaving marks on her neck?” I ask her.

            Grandma’s face goes pale. “Something like that,” she answered.

            What can be worse than leaving bruises on her neck? Maybe I don’t want to know as those marks on her neck are bad enough.

            The hospital is connected to some sort of clinic, where I will get my shots. “Measles, whooping cough, rubella, mumps, chickenpox, Hib, and influenza,” she lists. “Even if she was exposed to outside germs, that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t get any of these diseases.”

            I don’t even know most of them.

            The doctor asks me the same question as the person that drew my blood: what’s my favorite movie and what not. Do these people ask the same questions to kids?

            The shots hurt as I expected but not as bad as it was when they drew my blood. They give me a lollipop to choose from afterwards. One of those flat ones instead of the round ones that I would see at the local SuperOne or Shopko.

            I pick one of the orange ones.

            Back in the room, I am given headphones as a couple of people in suits and badges interview mom. It must be about what happened as at one point she massages her forehead with her fingers.

           

* * *

 

            When we wake up the next morning, we leave the hospital in a black van. Escorted by police people. The reason that they don’t want our location leaked out. We must be getting well known now.

            I sit between mom and grandma as the van drives us away from Ishpeming. Towards the area that is by Lake Superior.

            “We managed to secure a rental for the day before you cross the bridge tomorrow,” it’s explained to us. “They turned on the water and electricity for you. We stocked it with food.”

            The house is a one story surrounded by trees and not too far, one can see and hear the lake.

            I spend the rest of the morning drawing with paper and coloring pencils given to me as the TV blares in the background. Mr. Kingston is typing away on what he calls his laptop across from me on the kitchen table.

            “My daughter likes to draw as well,” he says as he’s continuing to work on his computer. “What utensils do you like to use?”

            “Coloring pencils,” I answer. “Crayons are too messy.”

            “Sounds like my daughter,” he chuckles. “She is at the stage where she doesn’t want to get any marker or paint on her clothes.

            At one point, I could hear the news playing.

            “Clarke…” grandma warns from the living room.

            “I just want to know want to know what they say for a minute,” she argued.

            Mr. Kingston mutters something under his breath. Leaving his computer and the table as he goes into the living room.

            I don’t hear too clearly, but I make out a few words like “impregnable dungeon” and “Stockholm syndrome”. I look back at the living room to see a woman reporter speaking. There is a picture of mom that was taken probably when she was younger followed by another picture of her. On the white box below are the words: FOUND AFTER TEN YEARS; CLARKE GRIFFIN AND HER DAUGHTER BY CAPTOR LIVED IN SQUALID CONDITIONS.

            We didn’t live down in that basement every single day of the year like the news is trying to say. August to May can be considered a big portion of the year but that was because my big sister was in school.

            Then they show a picture of our room in the basement, only with yellow squares with black numbers on random places. There is a picture of the sink with that hair dye container holding our toothbrushes followed by another picture of the closet, my cot stripped bare.

            But I don’t see it for long because I see Mr. Kingston with the remote and the channel changes to the history channel. “They are idiots,” he says. “Never bother to think twice before saying anything.”

Grandma’s cellphone rings and she whips it out of her pocket, “Yes, Marcus?” she asks as she walks away from the living room. “We’re not in the hospital but we’re going to come home tomorrow. Yes, I spoke with Charmaine last night. Honestly, I can’t blame her for being…”

            She leaves the house.

“I would avoid the news for now,” I can hear him say. “Especially at this time. The beginning is always when they say stupid things.”

I decide to step out of the kitchen and into the living room, walking past him as he returns to his work. Mom is at the end of the couch. Massaging her forehead with her fingers.

            “Are you okay, mom?” I ask.

            Mom looks up and smiles. “Come here,” she says, reaching out her hand to me.

            I go to the couch and lean against her stomach as she strokes my hair. Inside her stomach, I could feel my brother and sister moving around in there.

            “What does he mean by the news being stupid at this point?” I ask her.

            Mom pauses. As if she doesn’t know how to proceed. “We just escaped two days ago, Madi,” she says. “They are still receiving information, even if their preconceptions are skewed. They think I became attached to your dad, and that’s why I didn’t escape sooner.”

            I don’t remember mom being attached to dad. “You hated him,” I deduce.

            “I did and I still do,” she says.

            If mom hates dad for what he did to her, maybe I should hate him too. Because it wouldn’t be right to still love him if he’s hurt her.

 

           

           

           

              


 

 


	6. Homecoming

We wake up at five in the morning the next day and eat a light breakfast before we go in the black van taking us to mom’s home town. The doctor said no to flying because they didn’t want to risk her getting what they call “deep vein thrombosis.”

            “The farther we are away from Marquette, the happier I’ll be,” mom says.

            Probably because she doesn’t want to be reminded about dad and everything that happened. Though Marquette was my home. I will miss it though.

            “Don’t be afraid to make pot stops,” says our driver. “This is going to be a five hour drive.”

            It’s too dark outside to see the massive lake. I sing a few lyrics from “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” as I look out the window. Hopefully, I can see the lake in the daytime if we come visit again.

            I continue to color in one of my drawings in the sketchbook I was given as we continue our trip to Traverse City. The sun begins to rise at some point and we see daylight. I am dimly aware of grandma snapping a pic of me with her phone.

            Is that allowed since Anya and Roan don’t want people to know what I look like and what my name is?

            We make three bathroom trips and each time, mom puts on a pair of sunglasses, a hat, and something for her nose. Probably so no one would recognize her. Though I am given shades too.

            It must be around nine or something when we reach the Mackinac Bridge. I swallow hard, seeing how far it stretches. Its one thing to see a picture but it’s another thing to actually see it.

            “First time you crossed the bridge?” grandma asked. “It looks scary, I know.”

            “It will be fine,” mom assured. “As I said, we will not fall off.”

            The van stops at a toll booth before we head on out. I look out at the water, watching the sun reflect off of it. The lake is very beautiful and blue but my stomach is tied into knots as we still have a lot of bridge to cover.

            I hold mom’s hand as we get close to the railing, but we never fall off. Whew!

            We make it to land again, far away from the Upper Peninsula. Bye Lake Superior. I hope I can see you again sometime. I lean against my mom and close my eyes.

            I don’t know how long I have fallen asleep until someone nudges my shoulder. “Madi, we’re home now,” says mom.

            Rubbing my eyes, I sit up and see that we’re at a stoplight. We’re not at the house yet but mom probably wants me to be up when I see it.

            A car honks as we turn a left.

            “The one thing I don’t like about this city is crazy drivers,” Anya says. “It is worse during the summer, especially the Cherry Festival.”

            Mom made a mention about the Cherry Festival. This time, I’ll be able to go without dad telling me that I can’t. Dad will still be in jail.

            We see trees and a few nice houses. Though I see people here and there. Cheering and holding signs and flowers. One of the signs saying, WELCOME HOME, CLARKE GRIFFIN.

            “Someone must have slipped that you were coming back,” says Anya. “Damn whoever has police scanners.”

            But should it be a good thing that they are welcoming mom and I home?

            The van turns in a driveway (there is a mailbox with a light blue ribbon tied to it) and my eyes widen as I see the house. It’s like what mom described. It looks like a big log cabin with the type of windows that dad has on his house. And there are two cars in a garage.

            I have been in the van for hours that I have to stretch before I get out after mom. “The property has been screened at the back to assure privacy,” says Roan. “And for extra measure, there will be a patrol car parked by the property for security. Don’t worry about the crowds, they will get bored eventually.”

            So, a cop car is going to be outside this house all day and all night?

            I stick close to mom as we reach the door, which has a twig wreath with fall leaves on it. I can hear mom swallow hard as we enter the house behind grandma.

            “See, home sweet home,” says grandma as she closes the door behind us. There is wood paneling on the walls with a carpet floor in the main hallway.

            “May you take off your shoes?” mom asks as she takes off my hat and coat. I take off my shoes and put them on the shelf under the coats, as that is where the shoes are kept.

            I tag behind mom. This may have been her house but it’s a strange house to me.

            “Hello,” I hear a man greet as we leave the main hallway. There is an older man with graying hair on his hair and beard that comes towards us. I stay close to mom, but she and grandma don’t seem too worried. “It’s great to have you home, Clarke.”

            He hugs mom. “Madi, this is Marcus,” grandma introduces. “He has been our friend since your mom was little.”

            Marcus looks down at me after he is done hugging mom. He smiles. “Hi, Madi,” he greets, lifting his hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

            I pause, wondering if I should shake this strange man’s hand. But it would not be polite to. So, I shake his hand.

            Grandma mentions something about lunch. That people have been kind to give them somethings. I am hungry. My stomach is growling.

            We follow them in the kitchen and Marcus quickly tries to hide a newspaper in view. That doesn’t stop me from seeing a picture of mom when she was younger next to the mug shot of my dad. He looks mad there. The kind of look he gave mom if she didn’t do something that he wanted.

            I shivered.

            “What would you like to drink, Madi?” asked grandma. “We have milk and juice.”

            “Juice, please,” I ask, folding my hands together.

            Marcus helps grandma gather things up from the refrigerator. Talking about how Aunt Raven and her husband (Miles they call him) are coming over for dinner. Are they going to bring my cousin with them? 

            They heat up stroganoff for us. Mom gets coffee while I get grape juice. I look out the window and see the trees out back. And something that looks like an edge of a pool. Probably the one that mom talked about.

            Though it would be too cold for swimming.

            “I know your birthdays have only been a few days ago, but I thought of maybe having a small gathering,” says grandma. “That is, depending on what the therapist says.”

            “But mom and I had cake last Thursday,” I say.

            “A cake is better with family and friends surrounding you,” says mom. “We have your grandma, your aunt, and your cousin.”

             That doesn’t include dad. He’s in jail, so he’s not invited. I don’t see the point of another birthday cake if I already have one.

            I finish up my lunch and take my plate and cup to the sink. “Do you want any of us to help you?” asks Marcus.

            “No, I got it,” I say as I rinse the cup and plate. I don’t want to be rude and leave out my dirty dish and dirty cup. I put the cup and plate away in the drying rack before wiping my hands.       

“Is there anything here that you would like to do?” asks grandma to one of us.

 

* * *

 

            We follow her up the stairs. My hands hanging onto the wooden banister. I see a big picture of what looks like mom when she was younger above an end table when we reach the second floor. Showing her teeth in a wide smile.

            We pass a couple doors until grandma opens one of them and turns on the light. The walls are pastel blue and above a bed are the wooden letters C.G. On one wall are black words in fancy writing _Imagination Starts Here…_ with paintings underneath. Probably her paintings.

            It is sort of dusty in here.

            Mom leans against the doorjamb. “Yeah,” says grandma. “Everything is where you left it.”

            “This is mom’s room?” I ask.

            “Yes, this was my room,” says mom. Did mom wake up that October morning knowing that dad was going to kidnap her? Probably not.

            Grandma says something about how she and Marcus will be downstairs if we need anything and kisses mom on the forehead before hugging her. They are going to be in the same house, so I don’t understand what that is about.

            “It is not like we’re leaving,” I say when grandma is out of earshot.

            “A hug and a kiss don’t have to be greeting and goodbye,” mom explains. “We can kiss and hug anyone at any time of day.”

           

* * *

 

            The living room is not too far from the kitchen and mom says that the news is off limits. That I can watch anything but that. I watch Ancient Aliens on the History as mom is in the kitchen talking with grandma.

            “I understand the need but part of me doesn’t want to do the therapy,” I hear mom say in the kitchen. “I feel like I can withstand the fallout if I survived ten years and six days of being some psycho’s plaything.”

            “Clarke, you’re going to need the therapy and you will be glad that you took it,” I hear grandma say. “It will be good for Madi too. Besides, I have heard nothing bad about Dr. Niylah Pines. Everything will be great. I heard that she involves horses as part of the process.”

            Mom doesn’t say anything at first. “That might have to wait though,” she says. “I doubt that I’m at the stage where I can ride a horse.”

            The doorbell rings.

            “I will get it,” Marcus offers, though it could be our visitors. Aunt Raven, Uncle Miles, and my cousin Tyler.

            “Part of me wants it to be just us tonight,” mom says. “To have our space and not see anyone else but, I haven’t seen Raven in years and…I want to see her.”

            I hear Marcus talking with a man and a woman at the door. Along with what sounds like a little boy. Yep, it’s them. I would rather continue watching TV but it would be rude with visitors in the house.

            I turn off the TV with the remote and walk towards the kitchen. And I see a woman with long brown hair running towards there. I watch as she launches herself at mom. Hugging her as she cries.

            “I-I’m s-so sorry, Clarke,” she sobbed. Tears streaming down her face. “If I…If I…”

            “Raven, it’s not your fault,” mom said to her, crying a little as well. “None of this was your fault.”

            “Still.” She wipes away a tear. “I could have done something right that day. Like, not –”

            “Raven, it’s not your fault,” says grandma. “We can’t fix what happened. Don’t beat yourself over it.”

            Why does Aunt Raven think it’s her fault that mom got kidnapped ten years ago? It’s dad that kidnapped mom and he is in jail, where he will stay forever locked up.

            She’s still wiping her eyes as she and mom separate. Aunt Raven looks towards me as a man with buzzed hair and skin a little darker then her comes in. He’s holding a little boy that has the same color of skin as him and he has frizzy brown hair.

            Must be Uncle Miles and my cousin Tyler.  

            Aunt Raven smiles after a few seconds. “You are the little hero that they talk about,” she said as she approached me. “I am thrilled to finally meet you, Madi.”

            “Who says I’m a little hero?” I ask her.

            Everyone chuckles.

            “It is just that the news talks about how you two got out,” said Uncle Miles. “How you were able to get out of that basement prison and run for help, that’s all.”

            But I wasn’t being a hero. I just escaped first and made sure that the police didn’t forget mom. There was nothing special about it.

            They introduce me to Aunt Raven and Uncle Miles (“Madelyn but I call her Madi for short,” mom pitched in) and then to Tyler, who they introduce to my mom later.

            “He’s looking at me like who is this strange woman,” mom remarked when he showed hesitation in greeting her. Compared how he was trying to reach for me, calling me “Cousin Madi.”

            “Well, I got dinner ready,” said grandma. “Pick up a plate and bowl and help yourselves.”

            Grandma made spaghetti, salad, and breadsticks. The nice spaghetti with the meatballs rather than just chunks of hamburger that mom would use back in the basement. Probably used different sauce.

            I carefully ladle the spaghetti into a blue porcelain bowl; the breadsticks on the small plate next to my bowl. They sit Tyler down on one of those chair stools so that he could be at table level and I see that he’s wearing a blue shirt with a smiling Dalmatian in a fireman’s hat.

            That is one of the characters I recognize from that DVD case and some of the other stuff that I had seen. Mom and the other adults in the room don’t talk much as we eat. It’s kind of weird, sitting in a table with many people. When it would be just me and mom sitting together most of the time.

            Tyler did most of the talking. Talking mostly about that show he likes. And grandma asks him what he was going to be for Halloween.

            “T’challa of Wakanda,” he pipes up, playing with his spoon.

            “Black Panther, he meant to say,” said Uncle Miles with a smile.

            “Doesn’t that movie come out next year?” asked Marcus.

            “Yes, but that’s what he wants to be for Halloween.” Aunt Raven looks over at me. “We should go and get your Halloween costume sometime.”   

            I raise my eyebrow. I never thought that I would be dressing up for Halloween.  Well, mom says I was three when I was last taken out for some Trick or Treating but I don’t remember it.

            Maybe because past that age, I was supposed to be in school. Living with someone that didn’t exist. Well, who he said was my mom anyway.

            I had cleaned off my plate and they had fudge brownies for dessert. “Thank you,” I said, remembering my manners as I picked up my fork. Taking a bite of the brownie. I feel like I had my share of food, but it wouldn’t be polite to decline.

            “I have something for the two of you,” said Aunt Raven at some point during dessert. She stood up from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

            “Make sure they don’t see you,” said grandma.

            “The back of the car isn’t even facing the front of the driveway.” The door closes, and I wonder what she got us. I keep turning the fork in my hand in between taking bites of my brownie.

            If the news people are out still tomorrow, that means that I might stay in here all day tomorrow. I don’t like it. “What if they are still out there tomorrow? Does that mean we have to stay in the house all day?”

            “Maybe,” says grandma. “I have nothing else planned for tomorrow.”

            “If you like, you could spend the day at our house,” asked Uncle Miles.

            I frown. I’m already in another house as it is. I don’t need to go from one house to another. It would be all confusing. I keep my eyes on my dessert as the door opens. Though I see her holding two gift bags. One is orange with black spots on it and the other blue with silhouettes of animals.

            “Welcome home,” she said as she plopped them on the table. “Madi, the Halloween themed bag is yours. Clarke, well, I made sure that I got a baby themed bag when mom told me. I couldn’t help myself.”

            “You’re fine.” Mom looks at me. “Open and see what Aunt Raven got you.”

            I put down my fork and drag the bag towards me. Opening the bag, I see a box of coloring pencils, a Disney princess coloring book, and a bag of eyeball gummies. Yum, yum.

            The other Disney princesses are okay, but Rapunzel is the best.

            “Aww, Raven, you didn’t have too,” commented mom and I see her holding a blue baby onesie with a hat and shoes attached. A similar set is lying on the table.

            “At your stage, women usually get baby things,” said Aunt Raven. “I made sure it was okay with mom before getting anything.”

            Uncle Miles looks a bit uncertain when mom pulls out a weathered orange and white envelope. Mom herself looks taken aback, as if she didn’t expect it.

            “Oh, those are the pictures from your sixteenth birthday party,” said grandma. “Raven picked them up one week after…you know.”

            Mom turns the envelope in her hand before putting it down. “I’ll look through it soon,” she says. “What did Aunt Raven get you, Madi?”

            That’s what she does when she is uneasy. Mom diverts the attention away from one thing and asks me a question. Like the current one. I show her the coloring book, the coloring pencils, and the candy.

            “I’m sure you’re going to spend a good part of the day coloring into that,” she answered with a smile. “Take it easy on the candy, though.”

            Uncle Miles takes Tyler downstairs with him and sensing that mom might want some alone time with Aunt Raven, I go upstairs back to mom’s bedroom. Taking the presents that Aunt Raven gave me with me.

           

 

* * *

 

            “Mom?” I ask her when we were both asleep in her old bed. It feels strange but not too bad.

            “Mmmhmm?” she murmurs.

            “Why does Aunt Raven think its her fault that you were kidnapped?” I asked her.

            “Madi, well, it’s complicated, actually,” she sighed.

            I frown. How complicated can it be? Everything is beginning to get complicated as it is.

            “What you need to know, Madi,” she began after a while, “is that we were only teenagers. Teenagers think differently then adults. That morning, I texted Raven and asked her to drive me to school. She said no. There was this school project that she wanted to do early. It irritated me, but I thought it didn’t hurt to walk to a friend’s house to…”

            Mom drifts off. It doesn’t take me too long to figure that one out. “Aunt Raven thinks that had she took you to school, dad wouldn’t have kidnapped you? It’s not her fault that it happened.”

            “Yeah, it’s not her fault,” mom said, nodding. “I don’t think she understands that by taking me to school that morning wouldn’t have avoided that outcome. He had it all planned before he took me. He would have just found another day and excuse to come down and do it anyway.”

           

           

 

 


	7. More Reunions

We’re all quietly eating breakfast when I hear the phone ring.

            “I’ll get it,” said grandma before leaving her seat. Leaving us in the kitchen as I stirred my cereal. Looking as the Rice Krispies swim in the milk. Thinking about what mom said last night about Aunt Raven blaming herself for mom getting kidnapped.

            “Hello? Oh, hi, Charmaine,” I could hear grandma say from the other room.

            If I see Aunt Raven next time, I should tell her that it wasn’t her fault that mom got kidnapped. Because it wasn’t. She was just worrying about school.

            Grandma comes in with the phone in her hand. “Clarke, would it be okay if Charmaine and Danielle dropped by this afternoon for a visit?” she asked. “As, well…she was married to –”

            “Sure, they can come,” mom answered abruptly, as if it was a stupid question. “I’m not stopping them.”

            Dani is here? I thought she was back all the way in Marquette. It’s her mom that lives here. When grandma comes back into the kitchen, I ask, “I thought Dani was back in Marquette.”

            “Her mom picked her up from the airport yesterday,” she answered. “And not surprisingly, the news media wouldn’t give them privacy.”

            “I saw that when you were on your way home,” Marcus answered. “Charmaine gave them a earful.”

            I thought that mom and I were the ones that the news wanted to see since that Great Escape? Why are they hounding Dani and her mom for? They didn’t do anything.

            “Why? They didn’t do anything,” I ask.

            “Apparently, guilt by association is a concept regarding things like this,” Marcus explained. “If anything, Dani will get the brunt of it since she stayed at his house for school…”

            “What did they expect her to do?” mom demanded, sounding very irritated. “They don’t know what he was like. Only what they get from the news sometimes.”

            The news seems to not know a lot of things, as they made mom mad the other day. Saying that she was attached to dad and whatnot.

 

* * *

 

            “I apologize if they gave you any problems as you drove in,” Marcus apologized moments after Dani arrived with a stern-faced woman that looked like her mom. She wasn’t wearing one of those dark shirted outfits like I have seen Michigan sheriff’s wear on TV, but maybe she was off-duty.

            “They were like vultures yesterday when I went to pick Dani from the airport,” Charmaine commented. “Ignoring the concept of personal space as always. I told the group outside that if they don’t leave in the next hour, I’ll have them escorted out.”

            “That didn’t stop me from giving them the finger as I did yesterday,” Dani commented. “They are a bunch of jerks and always have been. Like, did they really expect me to challenge dad, though I don’t think he’s worthy of that title anymore…”

            Charmaine turns to me. “I have known your mom and her parents since she was in diapers,” she says. “I kind of figured that she would find her way back and she did. Your mom always struck me as persistent and headstrong.”

            I frown. I don’t know how to peg her. She seems stern, professional. As if she’s the cop you can’t cross. I’m not warming up to her too soon.

            Dani and her mom sit with us at the table for lunch. “No one expects to come home after a first shift at Best Buy to see a bunch of cops and a investigation unit at their house. At first I thought something must have happened to him.” She snorted. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised after…well, what mom told me about what he did back when I was a toddler.”

            “I admit, I had my suspicions now and then,” said Charmaine, “as he happened to return back to Marquette that Monday you disappeared. However, I didn’t have probable cause to pursue my suspicions. Paxton was trying not to not suspicious when I told him, as he said, ‘Yikes. Parents need to watch their kids more. I know that you’ll keep tabs on Dani.’ Talk about not wanting to be suspicious.”

            Mom spits out her milk as grandma, mom, and Dani shared disgusted glances with Charmaine. I look at my plate. I have known him for years, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

            Grandma then changes the subject.

            “Nothing has changed much, except that I’m a sheriff instead of a deputy,” she answered. She looks at Marcus. “I took his advice on trying the dating scene early this year, and it’s been rather…interesting.”

            “Not to mention that the news media and tabloids might go crazy over it,” Dani muttered under her breath. “It’s not everyday that one of the attorneys of the victim is going out with the ex-wife of the perp.”

            “Wait, which one?” mom asks.

            “I met him on eHarmony months ago,” Charmaine answered. “If the media finds trouble over it, let them. All they want is a juicy story for ratings, especially as it’s in the early stages.”

            Charmaine is seeing Mr. Kingston?

            “Um…ok,” said mom. “I’m not mad…it’s just…everything is going to be awkward.”

            Are they afraid that the media might say that it will make things complicated for him? Since Charmaine and Dani have disowned mom’s kidnapper, it seemed that it shouldn’t make things too complicated.

            Dani takes me from the dining room to the family room so the adults can have their ‘talk.’ “I haven’t seen you for years, squirt,” she says, ruffing my hair with her hand. “You grown like a weed. I need to put a brick on your head.”

            “It won’t stop me from growing,” I retort.

            She chuckles, “You’re so cute, Madi. Now, let’s see if there is anything good on TV.”

 

* * *

 

            Dani and her mom leave before dinner, which was quieter then last night. Except for when they spoke about him going to court tomorrow. And that our therapist is stopping by the house tomorrow morning.

            “Why do I need therapy?” I ask.

            “Even if nothing bad happened to you, it’s still good,” said Marcus. “For you, the situation you were in probably requires therapy.”

            As I was in a basement with mom for quite some time? How I saw him and heard him treat mom from time to time? “Like, just my environment and what I saw time to time?” I ask.

            “Yes, Madi,” answered Grandma. “Like that.”

            Mom looks at the phone that she was given. “He gets arraigned at nine thirty tomorrow morning and apparently, it will be televised.”

            Why do they want other people to see it? It doesn’t make sense to me.

            We help grandma wash the cups and dishes. Mom goes in the cupboard to retrieve a cup to make hot chocolate when she looks at a blue mug. To me, it’s just a regular mug. Mom, she begins to tear up and starts crying.

            “Clarke, I’m sorry.” Grandma hugs her. “I’m sorry.”

            Why is she sorry? She didn’t do anything.

            “Why now?” mom cries. “Why does it have to hit me now? Why not yesterday? I just want him back.”

            It’s grandpa she’s talking about. I will never know him, but just by seeing her cry, I start to tear up. So, I approach mom and wrap my arms around her.

            “I hate him,” she sobs. “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”

            It’s not hard to figure out that it’s…hmmm. Maybe Paxton so I wouldn’t call him ‘him’ all the time.

 

* * *

 

            Mom lays out our clothing the next morning on the bed after breakfast. “We need to look presentable but not too dressy,” were her words. I pull on the sweater and jeans that were set on for me as I see mom pull on her sweater. She’s wearing one of those elastic bands that I see on magazine pages from time to time.

            We watch TV in the living room to pass the time, though it’s mostly mom channel surfing. She lingers on one of the news stations that has the glimpse of a courtroom before she continues. Then she throws the remote in frustration.

            “Mom?” I ask.

            “Sorry, Madi,” she apologized, turning to face me. “I’m just stressed, that’s all. I’m not quite ready if I’m ready to spill my guts yet.”

            “Spill her guts as in tell her everything?” I ask when I hear the front door open.

            “Well, yeah,” she answers when I hear a pair of heels echo in the hallways towards the living room.

            “Winding down before the first day?” asks the newcomer. A tall woman with blonde hair and a purse slung over her shoulder stands by the door. She is dressed nice but not to business-like like Anya and Mr. Kingston.

            “Oh, well something like that,” mom answers.

            “Downtime does help the mind before it gets to work.” She offers her hand. “I’m Niylah Pines, Clarke.” Mom shakes her hand before she goes to me, “and you must be Madi.”

            “Yes,” I answer, shaking her hand to be polite.

            “I get that the two of you are probably hesitant,” she says, putting down her purse. “Yes, there are a lot of horror stories about therapists, but these sessions are about the both of you. Today’s theme is that I’ll let you talk, and I’ll listen. Then we can proceed what to do from there.”

            Talk and listen. Got it.

            “Which one of you wants to go first?”

            Mom swallows and says something under her breath. “Madi, why don’t you go with grandma for a bit while I talk? Because there’s going to be some things I wouldn’t want you to hear.”

            Things that they don’t think I’ll understand. I want to stay and be here with mom, but I want this lady to help us. I kiss mom on the cheek and leave the sofa.

            “Now, I got some errands that I have to do,” says grandma as she closes the living room door. “That will get your mom time to tell Niylah what she has to say.”

            “Will people notice me?” I ask.

            “Fortunately, they don’t know what you look like but it’s best to take precautions,” she tells me. Grandma hands me a pair of sunglasses before I put on my jacket, shoes, and hat. Leaves crunching under our feet as we head to one of the cars.

            I know the drill. Get in the backseat. I’m not old enough for the front seat yet.

            “All buckled up?” she asks after I do that.

            “Yes,” I answer before she starts the car.

            “ – Paxton McCreary of Marquette is expected to be arraigned this morning for the–” but she quickly changes the radio station to some talk radio station. Like the ones mom and I would listen to sometimes if there was nothing to watch.

            Our first stop is a store called Family Fare. “I got to go get some things for a potluck at the hospital. Want to help me get what I need so I don’t forget?”

            I nod and she gives me the list. He always had me hold the grocery lists when we went to Walmart, Super One or EconoFoods so this is familiar to me. The store is small, but I stay close to her. Quietly listing off the stuff on the list.

            We don’t stay too long and when grandma asks, “Is there anything that you want before we leave, sweetie?”

            In the store, she’s called me “sweetie”, “darling”, “sweetpea”, and “honey.” Not my name, probably because she’s afraid that someone might listen and leak it out. Then I’ll be in trouble.

            Mom and I got out of Paxton’s basement just for the media people to put us in some invisible prison.

            I am tempted to ask to get a carton of strawberries, but I don’t want to hold her up. Not to mention I don’t want Niylah to wait too long for us. So, I answer “no” and we go to one of the check outs.

            “Hi, Abby,” greets the cashier, as if they have been acquainted before. Grandma is probably a regular here. “How is she doing?” she whispers.

            “Fine,” she whispers back. “She just got back home Saturday.”

            Then they talk about the weather and what the other might be planning for Halloween. As if I’m not there, but maybe this cashier knows not to say anything about me. As if it might stir up some trouble.

            “Alright, let’s go, sweetie,” says grandma after we gather the grocery bags before heading outside to the car.

 

* * *

 

            The next stop is the bank (where grandma takes out cash or something) before heading home. Helping her lug in the few bags of groceries.

            I hear mom and the therapist talking softly. In the kitchen instead of the living room when I saw them last. Which means that mom’s time with Niylah is over. That I will talk to her.

            “We’re home,” grandma announces.

            “How did you like it?” mom asks me.

            I know that she is talking to me. About me shopping in a store in a strange new town. I simply shrug and help grandma with the groceries. It wasn’t terrible but it was new.

            When I was done helping grandma with the groceries, I follow Niylah and mom back to the living room. “Now, a simple question: what would you use to describe the dynamic between your mom and…well.” It’s like she is hesitant to refer to him as my dad. Especially with her looking at my mom, like she is trying to her approval.

            “He didn’t treat her very nice from time to time,” I answer. “He wouldn’t say nice things to her.”

            “What kind of things?” Niylah asked.

            “I didn’t hear it but it was like he threatened her when she said something about how twins were more work then one baby,” I answer with a shrug. “Called her selfish for getting out of the car and that he was considering withholding her present to me because of that. Sometimes he call her things that I don’t want to repeat because they sound disgusting.”

            Words like the “B” word and “W” word were his favorite words he used. I don’t know what they mean but they most likely aren’t good words because he said them when he was mad at her.

            Niylah nods as she writes something down.

            “Paxton had a thing for bruising her neck,” I continue. “And I know that he did that to hurt her, because she didn’t like it.”

            Mom and Niylah look at me wide eyed as if in surprise before Niylah said, “Well, that solves one issue.” As she wrote something down. Maybe because I didn’t call him dad.

            I can’t really call him dad anymore after he’s hurt mom and kept her away from her family.

 

* * *

 

            Niylah leave before lunch time. She gives us both “assignments to do at least once a day.” She gives us each a notebook, that we write in a journal. Mom says that her assignment is more grueling then mine, as she says she has to recount what happened in the mindset that it happened before reflecting on it. Whereas I write down my feelings about what happened.

            “Not sure if I want to go through this,” mom says. “Writing about it, yeah. But going back into that mindset…”

            “She said that you can wait,” grandma pitches in. “That you don’t have to right now.”

            “Thing is, if I put it off, it’s going to open a can of worms for me,” mom argues. “I mean, I pretty much steamed like a kettle to Niylah today, but I still have some work to do.”

            It was after lunch when mom’s attorneys came. I went to the kitchen to give them privacy, though I can still hear what is being said.

            “The criminal complaint has been released, with Madi’s name redacted,” Anya said as I hear her laying down paperwork. “He’s been indicted on for kidnapping, false imprisonment, and multiple counts of rape. No bail has been set and a grand jury hearing is due at in the first week of January.”

            “Did he plea anything or has that come yet?” asked grandma.

            “He pleaded guilty to all counts,” answered Mr. Kingston before making some noise. “He didn’t deny it when they confronted him with the evidence on Wednesday. In fact, they said he seemed proud of it. That he was only upset because he didn’t get away with it.”

             They move on to another subject.

            “I understand that engaging with the media is not a big priority at the moment,” Mr. Kingston explains. “That it shouldn’t be a big priority at the moment, so we’re going to give you time to think about when it’s comfortable for you.”

            “But be warned: the media can get nasty if they don’t receive a picture,” Anya finished.

            I don’t want any strangers taking pictures of me.

           

* * *

 

                        Tuesday.

            We get to go to the dentist to get our teeth checked and in two days is our eye appointments.

            “Just to give you a idea, the dentist is going to check your teeth,” mom tells me as we buckle up in the car. “Check for any cavities, make sure your teeth are good.”

            Still, I don’t know I feel about someone looking into my teeth. Feels very weird to me.

            “I hated the dentist when I was young,” mom continues. “I knew the point of it, but still.” She chuckles at the end of her words. “Anyways, they say that it’s going to be just us in the office today. A special visit.”

            The only ones, huh?

            I focus my attention on the book that I’m reading. Grandma lent me a copy of the Secret Garden as I didn’t show disinterest in any “age-level books.” The author sure had a thing for India. Sara from _A Little Princess_ lived in India before going to some English boarding school where she was turned into a servant for a few years after her dad died.

            When we arrive, I notice like two cars in the driveway. Maybe the dentist and the assistant that are here.

            I get out of the car after mom, pulling my hood up and walking close to grandma in case any paparazzi is stalking us. Trying to sneak a picture of us without our permission. Even if we’re wearing hats and black shades.

            Grandma knocks on the door and a man in a lab coat and dark blue scrubs opens it. “Why, hello?” she greets. “Come on in.”

            Mom takes off the shades and hat as soon as we step in. Stuffing them in the purse that grandma gave her. He introduces himself as Dr. Daniel Sarya; shaking both my mom’s and mine hands. “Now, why don’t we check your teeth first before we check over mom, if that’s ok?” he says.

            Probably because I’m the kid here.

            “That’s fine,” says mom.

            They take me to the back and have me lay on some weird looking chair. The light looks blue with white clouds. “Open wide for me?” I’m asked as he puts a light above me. I do and I feel something hard and metallic go on each of my teeth. It feels weird and I want to spit it out.

            But that’s not good manners. “Good job, Madi,” he tells me. “Teeth look nice and white too.”

            “I was able to brush my teeth,” I tell him.

            “That’s a good thing,” he commented. “Good that you able to maintain dental hygiene.”

            He scratches my teeth with some metal object to get out what he calls “plaque” before cleaning my teeth. Asking me what flavor of fluoride I wanted. I say, “Mint Chocolate.”

            After my session, it’s mom’s turn. She takes longer then me as they fill a cavity that she has that they didn’t want to wait to fill. They numb her mouth and all for that.

           

* * *

 

            “I just wish I didn’t have to go out in public wearing hats and shades,” mom comments after we get home from the dentists. “Like, we’re free but not free.”

            “It will die down, Clarke,” grandma tried to assure. “It should after a while. It did after Jaycee Dugard from California was found and after those three girls from Cleveland were discovered. The same could be said for you.”

            Mom chuckles. “Funny thing because I heard about those cases on the radio, but I didn’t think that I be that lucky,” she admitted. “Even if tried any means of escape. Part of me resigned to my fate three years ago.”

            Lunch passes by and at that time, Aunt Raven arrives.

            “I stopped by Bellamy Blake’s before I came,” said Raven, putting down a platter of what looked like Halloween cookies. “He and his six year-old made these last night.”

            “Hmmm,” said mom as she peels off the plastic. “I would always buy his cookies at the school bake sale. They were the best.”

            “These look store bought,” I comment, picking up one with a pumpkin and a black cat.

            “If you’re talking about the frosting yes, but they taste better then store bought,” Aunt Raven replied. Taking a bite, it’s like he put lemon in with the vanilla batter. Maybe she’s right.

            Aunt Raven set down her bags somewhere and helped us with making the food for tonight.

            “Jasper and Maya…hard to believe,” said mom. “They were just starting to date before the Monday I was taken. To be honest, I never thought that it would last.”

            “Oh, they did,” said Aunt Raven as she cut up the tomatoes. “They live in some small cabin out in Mayfield. Away from the city, though it doesn’t stop the tourists from asking them directions during the summer. With that baby on the way, they are going to be looking for something a little bigger.”

            They ramble on more about mom’s friends. I just listen as I help with the food.

            “Asshole cheated on me with Echo during second half of senior year,” Aunt Raven continued. “Honestly, they are suited for each other. Besides, I never understood what Bellamy saw in that hockey jock anyways.”

            It’s hard to keep up who is who but it doesn’t take me long to figure out that her friends are not with the same people. Bellamy has a six year old daughter and I get the gist that his girlfriend died a couple years earlier; though Monty and Jasper are still with the same people from high school.

            When mom asked about Lexa, Aunt Raven hesitated. “She and Costia got together a few years back,” was the answer. “They are in Tampa, Florida now.”

            “Costia as in Costia Birch? Wells’ girlfriend?” mom asked in confusion.

            “Yeah, and guess who he is dating now, though your recovery might complicate things,” Aunt Raven asked. Like it’s a bad thing.

            Does it matter who he is seeing anyway?

            “If Wells and Dani are dating, I honestly don’t see the problem with it.” Mom presses her hand on the dough.

            “Clarke, she was in that house every fall and winter semester,” Aunt Raven pressed. “I don’t buy the fact that she wasn’t suspicious of what was going on. Why didn’t she be like ‘hey! Something strange is going on in dad’s basement’. I would.”

            Mom stops what she is doing. “We’re talking about a guy that would do anything to keep what was happening in his basement a secret. Even if she did press, he’d probably tell her that he was working on something down there.”

            Then grandma changed the subject. Asking her about work and Tyler and all that. Most likely because of the way mom was beating her slab of dough afterwards.

            Then the subject is changed. “Your uncle is hoping to come up here for Thanksgiving with his family,” said grandma. “Personally, I’d rather wait for them to come up here but knowing them…”

            Mom rolls her eyes.

            “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she groans. “Though I rather just take Aunt Simone and Uncle Russell and not have to deal with Josephine. On the plus side, at least Josephine wouldn’t want to hope to ‘Freaky Friday’ with me now. I think she still equates being pregnant to being fat.”

           

* * *

 

 

            Just before dinner, Wells Jaha comes over. The Jaha family lives down the road. The house that mom was walking to the morning she was kidnapped.

            “Dad wishes that he could come but apparently city politics seems take up too much of his mind then he would like it too,” Wells said to mom. “Not to mention that he is probably afraid of rushing things for you.”

            “That’s fine, Wells,” said mom. “Niylah suggested that I take things a little slow and to be honest I’m not up to a simultaneous reunion with everybody yet, myself. Even if I want to be in a room with all of my friends at once.”

            “Good thing Bellamy sees you on Friday,” he said with a smile. “The guy has been dying to see you again ever since he heard that you were found.”

            All mom can do is smile. As if she doesn’t know what to say to that.

“How do you like Traverse City so far?” Wells asks me. “From what little you probably saw so far?”

I shrug. “Different from Marquette,” I answer. “I might not be too strange when I’m able to see more of it.”

            “Just a tip: It’s best to go to the downtown area during the fall, winter, and spring,” he says. “It gets crowded in the summer. Cherry Festival can be fun but the downside of it is that it can be busy.”

            “It doesn’t help either that people come here for conventions and festivals as well,” says mom.

            He doesn’t want to stay too long as he says something about being afraid of “overstaying his welcome” but stays for dinner once mom says that’s okay to stay a little longer.

            One of the things they talk about is the games of chess they played while in high school.

            “Mom taught me how to play chess,” I tell him. We were given a old chess set and every Wednesday, mom would bring it out and play it with me. Ever since I was seven.

            “Maybe the three of us can play it sometime,” he offered.

            “I might have to watch to make sure that the two of you don’t cheat,” I say.

            “Better yet, make sure that I don’t get distracted,” said mom with a smile. “Or else he’ll beat me.”

           

* * *

 

            Sometime during the night, I hear mom abruptly get up during the night. I try to get back to sleep, but I have a hard time. As I can hear her rifling through some papers. Peeking over to where she is, I can see her writing in her notebook.

            She wrote in it after dinnertime after Wells left, so why is she writing in it now?

            “Mom?” I ask.

            She looks at me. “Sorry, Madi,” she apologized. “I just…well…just go back to sleep. I’ll be done soon.”

            It takes her maybe five minutes before she comes back to bed.

            “Did you have a nightmare?” I ask her as she scooted closer to me.

            “No,” she answered. “Not exactly. It’s hard to describe it. But I was something that I felt like I needed to write on paper.”

 

* * *

 

            “Clarke, that’s ridiculous,” I could hear grandma say the next morning after breakfast. “He’s in jail without a chance of getting out. He shouldn’t be still controlling your life.”

            “Mom, it’s only been a week since Madi and I got out,” mom argued. “It was only a week from yesterday that I went to sleep in that dungeon with him breathing against my neck. It hasn’t completely hit me yet that I’m free even if I want it too.”

            “I doubt that the media is helping it any,” I could hear Marcus saying. “You haven’t been out of the house except for a dental appointment.”

            “No, it doesn’t,” mom said in agreement. “I wish they can all forget about us tomorrow so I can go back to life. I wish I didn’t need all this psychotherapy, then my life would be easier.”

            Niylah comes for another visit and I go downstairs while she talks with mom before she can talk to me. The main room of the basement is what they would call a entertainment center. With a bigger flat screen TV, a sectional couch, and a pool table. I avoid the news as they might be talking about us still, so I watch Aladdin on a channel called Freeform. A movie about a street beggar finding a genie’s lamp. And he uses his first wish to become a prince so he could marry a princess. Who the bad guy wanted to marry so he could become Sultan.

            She might go over my journal with me today, so I brought it out with me.

            “Watching from the big TV this time?” I hear Marcus ask me. I look to see him come out of another room. Probably his office.

            “Trying to give mom her space as she talks to Niylah,” I answer. “So they can talk about things that I might not be able to understand.”

            He probably did more then just trying to control her but I’m not supposed to know until I’m older grandma says.

            “They are going to talk about dark stuff, not going to lie.” He sits next to me. “Like Disney?”

            I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “I have seen about half of them, but Tangled is the best.”

            Mom was like Rapunzel. Kidnapped from her mom and dad and locked up, only it was in a basement instead of a tower. Only it wasn’t the floating lights that prompted her to leave.

            “Now, it’s your turn,” I heard Niylah say, mom right behind her. Marcus leaves as Niylah sets down a box of coloring pencils. “Now, I want you to draw as if you were in a boat during a storm. Sure, it wasn’t your situation but it helps express whatever feelings of fear, helplessness, hopelessness, bravery, the like. Mom, you can participate if you want to.”

            She means my mom. And she takes a piece of paper and some coloring pencils as well. As we draw, I see that mom’s is a little better then mine.

            Hopefully I’ll be good as her.

            “Now, what can you describe yourselves during the storm?” she asked.

            “Rough but we had each other,” mom answered.

            “Confusing,” I answered.

            “Who would have been most helpful during the storm?”

            “Passers by who could have been of help, but they weren’t,” said mom.

            “They could have helped,” I answer.

            “Can you describe your three feelings during the worst part of it?” she asked.

            Now, what is the worst part for me? The worst part could be seeing my mom sad, but its actually hearing and seeing how bad he was to her. No, when I feared something would happen to mom as I ran for help.

            Mom swallowed. “Desperation, hopelessness, violated,” she answered. “The worst part was the beginning of it. Like, I stumbled into the ultimate nightmare.”

            “Brave, uncertainty.” I pause. “Fear. Because I was afraid of what might happen to mom. That he might come back and hurt her while I went to get help.”

           

* * *

 

Thursday we go to get our eyes checked. With me having to look through some weird instrument to see if I can see letters clearly from a distance and how far I can see this picture of a farm. But with mom, they do something for her eyes, as she has to wear sunglasses when going outside for a few hours.

            Like the dentist’s office, we are the only ones here.

            After dinner, mom looks at her hair. “Ugh, we look so horrible. I think we both desperately need a trim.”

            “And you didn’t have scissors?” asks grandma.

            Mom glares at her. “Mom, he didn’t give me scissors because he knew I might stab him with it given the chance,” she said. “He never gave me anything sharp. In fact, the steak knives were dull. When our hair did get trimmed or cut…” mom shudders. “It makes me cringe thinking about it. At least he won’t be able to touch me again.”

            So grandma gets a pair of scissors and trims both our hair.

 

* * *

 

            Friday. The day when one of mom’s friends is going to come over and pay her a visit. I get out of bed before mom, smelling French Toast and sausage wafting from the kitchen.

            “Had you ever had cream cheese stuffed French Toast?” grandma asks as I enter the kitchen.

            “No,” I answer, shaking my head.

            “Today is your lucky day, then,” she answers as I see my mom enter the kitchen. She pulls me close to her side and kisses my cheek.

            “You know who we are seeing today?” she asks me.

            “Another one of your friends?” I ask, remembering what her friend Wells said.

            “Another one of my best friends,” she corrected me. “He and I go back to the fourth grade, though the same could be said for Wells.”

            I hear it in her voice again. As if it used to hurt talking about him. The same kind of hurt she used when talking about her former girlfriend. Like he was just as close. Or seemed to be.

            “Is he going to like me too?” I ask. Mom’s other friend and Aunt Raven like me and will that be true for me.

            “Oh, he will,” she said quickly. “I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t. After all, he has a daughter that’s only three years younger than you.”

            Though she seemed to be hopeful to. As if she herself didn’t want to think about the possibility in him rejecting me.

            The French Toast tastes different stuffed with cream cheese. A good different, and it’s powdered in sugar and has strawberries on it as well. It tastes good with the sausage.

            Because it’s messy I had to wipe my face.

            We had to change out of our pajamas into our clothes as he’s coming soon. We’re both in the bathroom; my mom pulling my hair back to partially restrain it, having finished doing it when we hear the doorbell ring.

            Mom abruptly turns, her face going pale before rushing out of the bathroom. “Mom, wait for me!” I call, running after her. But she’s fast, even if she looks like she has a ball under her blue sweater.

            “Bellamy?” I hear her ask as I reach the top of the stairs and it’s like I hear him ask something. Heart pounding in my chest as I run down the stairs and towards the door I see her hugging a man with dark brown curl hair and medium tan skin.

            They were hugging as if they didn’t want to be parted again.

When they separated, I could see that he had glasses and he had a stubble.

            “Yes, Bellamy,” she said as I saw her wiping her eyes. “Yes, you can hug me. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

            “I just didn’t want to go past your comfort zone,” Bellamy replies. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, given what you went through for ten years.”

            Mom nods. “It’s okay,” she says. “Believe me, part me thinks this is too good to be true and that I’ll probably wake up in that…I…and seeing you, for some reason it’s like my mind can’t process it.”

            “Well, I see you, and I’m not dreaming,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s all real to me. You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

            Right after that, he turns to me and I wonder what he might think when he smiles. “Hey, there,” he greets as he walks towards me. He outstretches his hand. “I’m Bellamy. I used to go to school with your mom.”

            Since mom has been looking forward to seeing him, he’s most likely not a bad guy. That I can trust him. So, I shake his hand. “I’m Madi. It’s short for Madelyn but she calls me Madi for short.”

            I’m explaining it to give mom a break from having to explain it to him.

            “I both got you and mom a little something,” he said, lifting up the bag that he has in his hand. “The cookies were the first thing, but I thought it was better if I gave you each something myself.”

            His cookies were the best. “I loved your cookies,” I tell him. “Mom says that yours were always the best.”

            “She is not lying,” he says as I see her crack a smile. He pulls out a book and hands it to me. _A Fourth Grader’s Guide to Michigan’s Shipwrecks_ and on the cover I see a picture of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

            “Thank you,” I say to him with a smile, and I thought I see mom bite her lip. I had a book like this, which is still there. But it was a big picture book and this one looks like a encyclopedia, well sort of.

            “I thought it was something you might be interested, as…” he drifts off, as if he’s nervous to venture to that area. Like he is afraid that he might offend mom. Bellamy turns to her. “Just a heads up, I already put songs in it.”

            He hands her a box and she opens it. Revealing it to be one of those devices called MP3 players. She turns it over with her fingers. Turning it on.

            “I tried being careful in what songs were there,” he says. “That they weren’t inappropriate. Songs that you can listen to if you need it.”

            She puts in one of those earbuds and presses a button. It’s faint, though I can hear, “Flicker. Yes, Flicker.”

            Mom looks up at him and smiles.

            “Thanks, I could use it,” she said before pulling him in a hug. Not long before grandma asks if he had the time for some coffee.

            “I don’t work today,” he answered. “I got until it’s time to pick up Percy from school.”

            That must be his six-year-old daughter.

            “Percy,” says mom. “Short for Persephone, right? Wouldn’t surprise me.”

            “I’m not one for common names,” he answers with a shrug as I follow them into the living room. They both sit on the couch, though not to close. So I sit at the nearest chair to give them space.

            “So, Bellamy,” she says. “What have you been up to?”

            It sounds like she is only interested listening to what he has to say. That she isn’t interested to divulge in everything that happened with her.

            Bellamy hesitates, like he thinks it might make mom feel bad if he said anything. “Well, a lot has happened in ten years,” he answered. “So, I will only talk about key details.”

            I open my book as I listen to them talk. Apparently, he broke up with his girlfriend when he learned she was cheating on him with Aunt Raven’s previous boyfriend. He said he works at some energy company, marking trees that are two close to power lines. He and Persephone live with his mom. And according to him, she still works at that tailor shop downtown. (“She looks just like you,” said mom as she looked at his phone. “Hair and all.”)

            Hmm. The PS Lady Elgin sunk in 1860 in Lake Michigan after she collided with a schooner.

            “There was this girl I met in college,” he continued. “Her name was Gina Martin. She worked at that bar downtown.” He pauses. “We were supposed to get married last year.”

            I turned the pages of my book as he talks about how one day two years ago, she was working when some angry man walked in looking for his wife, and Gina took the bullet so her coworker wouldn’t get killed.

            Was the angry man one of those men like Paxton?

            “I’m sorry,” my mom says after a pause.

            “I think about her once in a while,” he sighed as he drank his coffee. “Sometimes I see her when I look into Percy’s eyes.”

            Mom pauses, looking at me before saying. “I can’t say much around Madi, but all I can say is that she and this right here,” she touches her stomach, “were the only good things that happened in those ten years. The rest was…I wouldn’t call it a life.”

            “No, it wasn’t,” he said. “That bast – monster, he took everything from you.”

            He sounds almost angry. Like he wants to hurt him. Maybe kill him.

            “Though I should tell you that Monty and Jasper launched a amateur investigation,” he continues. “They almost got in trouble with Sheriff Diyoza.”

            “I remember Raven telling me something about that,” she answered. Did they talk about it while I was in bed? “Something about going onto foreign websites, seeing if I was taken overseas?”

            “If you were taken for what some thought, Monty knew that they wouldn’t have you anywhere near here,” he said. “Not even in this country as you getting kidnapped was national news for the first three months. Czech, Turkey, Russia, China, places where it was a problem.”

            Whatever it is they are talking about, they are leaving out some things. “Why did you think mom was sent to another country?” I ask.

            They both look at me. “Sometimes people take people to other countries in order to hurt them,” Bellamy explains. “Places where no would recognize them.”

            Mom says nothing for a moment before approaching me. “Madi, I want you to promise me something,” she said. “When you’re with grandma, Aunt Raven, and Bellamy, don’t leave their sight. Because sometimes the people that we are talking about like to kidnap children.”

            “Or people like him?” I ask, not mentioning his name.

            She nods. “Yeah, people like him as well,” she says. “Also, if anyone touches you where they shouldn’t, like where a swimsuit covers, tell me or if I’m not there, tell Bellamy, grandma, and your aunt and uncle. Understand?”

            Touch me where I don’t want them to. Is that what happened with her? She was touched where she didn’t want to be touched, but I don’t say it out loud. I nod as I said, “Yes, mom.”

            “Thanks, Madi,” she says before pulling me into a hug.

            Moments later, she decides to go into the kitchen to help grandma with something. Leaving me with Bellamy.

            “How do you like that book so far?” he asks as he sits in the chair next to me.

            “Very neat,” I say. “I used to have a book like this, but it was mainly pictures, but this is better. I learn more.”

            “That’s good,” he says. “Shipwrecks were never my thing. Not my personal favorite.”

            “But you like Greek Mythology,” I tell him. “That’s what mom has said about you.”

            “I have since I was in the fifth grade,” he replies. “Percy loves the parts of the stories I read to her, and I think that’s why Hercules is her favorite Disney movie at the moment. She is going to be Megara for Halloween.”

            “My favorite is Tangled,” I say.

            “Oh, the one about Rapunzel,” he says. “She likes that one too, even if it’s not a big favorite like Hercules. She’s watched it enough that I know the songs by heart.”

            “Mom sings the Healing Incantation when she brushes my hair,” I say. “She tears up at certain parts of the song, though.”

            Bellamy looks towards the kitchen, where he watches mom remove something from the oven. Then he turns back to me. “Madi,” he says. “It may sound too early as I just met you, but I want you to know that I’ll never let anything happen to your mom again. That I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

            It didn’t seem weird, as he seemed angry that she was taken at sixteen. Maybe he likes her. Besides, he seems like a good guy. “You seem like a good guy,” I tell him.

            Bellamy stays with us for lunch and when two o’clock comes, he has to go to pick Persephone up for school.

            “You can come back after you pick her up from school,” says mom.

            “Are you sure?” he asks. “I just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

            “No, you’re fine,” mom counters. “It’s just that…I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

            “Only because those years were taken from you,” he said. He pauses. “Well, Persephone wants to see Madi, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I came back for a few more hours.”

            Mom hugs him goodbye and after they get done hugging, Bellamy rubs his hand on the top of my head. “See you soon, Madi,” he says before leaving the door.

            Mom waves a little as he leaves the house.

            “Are you sure he was just your best friend?” I ask.

            Mom chuckles. “He was one of my best friends,” she says. “Well, maybe I had a crush on him back in Middle School, but he was interested in that girl from the school hockey team. Besides, I doubt he want to date me. He lost his girlfriend two years ago.”


	8. Time With Family

He comes back at thirty past three. And I can tell that he brought Persephone with him since I hear a girl talk loudly at the door. Just like him, she has dark brown curly hair and that medium tan skin.

            “Persephone, this is Clarke and her daughter Madi,” he introduces. “I went to school with Clarke.”

            “Hello,” mom greets. Offering her hand.

            “Why do you have a ball under your shirt?” she asks, and I could hear Bellamy chuckle.

            “Oh, this?” mom looks down at her stomach. “Oh, no. I have babies in there. Want to touch and feel.”

            She shakes her head ‘no’. “Nope, doesn’t want to,” says Bellamy. He looks down at the two of us. “What would you two like to do?” he asks as I hear the door open. “Watch a movie? Hear me read from a book?”

            “Oh, look who is here?” I hear Aunt Raven say. Her clothes are smudged, and they look sweaty. Grandma said that she was a airplane mechanic. “Getting these two kiddos acquainted?”

            “That’s the plan,” says Bellamy. “Just got out of work?”

            “Yeah,” she sighs. “Decided to drop by before going to the bank and going home to get cleaned up.” She looks at mom. “I was wondering if you and Madi can join me at Meijer while I do my shopping? Perhaps bring this dork along too since he’s here. You have been cooped up here for the past few days.”

            “Well, I went to go to get my teeth and eyes checked,” she said. “But that isn’t really going out. Personally, I…”

            “You think it’s a good idea now,” grandma scolds, glaring at Aunt Raven. “It’s been over a week and you know very well that at this stage, they are desperate to get a photograph or anything without her consent.”

            “She doesn’t need to be a prisoner in her own house either,” Aunt Raven snapped. “It’s not going to help her any if she doesn’t leave the house. She just won’t say her name and what she’s been through.”

            “Clarke, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Bellamy tells mom.

            Mom pauses, tapping her arms with her fingers. “Well, I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” she says. “It might actually do me some good.”

            “Okay then.” Aunt Raven is smiling. “I’ll text you when Miles and I are on our way so you can get ready.”

            Grandma doesn’t seem too happy. Thinks that it’s too soon for my mom to go out in public.

            But it doesn’t matter because a half hour later, I am situated between Persephone and Tyler in the backseat of Aunt Raven’s car. Both of them sitting in booster seats because they are not old enough to sit regularly. Mom sits in the front passenger seat.

            Bellamy is riding with Uncle Miles.

            “Thanks, Raven,” she says. “I understand why my mom’s upset, but…”

            “She’ll cool down,” said Aunt Raven. “I mean, I could understand her concern if it were tourist season and during that Cherry Festival. But it’s just locals for the most part. It might have the downside of hiding in plain sight, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in the house.”

            Rain splatters on the car windows as we’re taken from the Old Mission part to the part of Traverse City that I have never been before.

            “And of course, since it’s a Friday, it’s practically full,” says Aunt Raven as we pull into a parking lot. “Not to mention that it’s in the afternoon when people are out of work.”

            We park somewhere in the middle and I see Aunt Raven give mom a wad of money. “Here,” she said. “I would be useless to shop without cash on you.”

            “Raven, thanks but I don’t want to take your money,” says mom. “I mean, I am already getting donations by the day. Not to mention the baby registry you opened. I don’t want to take your money.”

            “Clarke, take it,” she says. “You have been through a lot. You deserve to buy Madi and yourself a little something now that you’re both free.”

            Mom hesitates before taking the money out of Aunt Raven’s hand. I could tell that there was something else that she wanted to say but didn’t. He would give mom cash sometimes at the store, which she would spend on me

 We all get out of the car and it seems that that Uncle Miles and Bellamy did not park far from us. Since we are joined by them a minute after we get out.

            “Want to ride in the cart?” Bellamy asks Persephone. He scoops her up and places her on the seat in the front of the cart as mom adjusts the hat she is wearing.

            “Stay close to me, sweetie,” mom tells me as we walk towards the store. Gripping my hand with hers.

            Walking into the store, it looks different from the Walmart that we would go to during the summer months. Different as in the layout is different.

            “I’m going to call you the nickname that I gave you in the second grade,” says Bellamy.

            “Princess?” mom asked, as if she doesn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed by it.

            “Yeah, that one,” he says.

            Rapunzel was a princess. One that was imprisoned in a tower, only for mom it was a basement.

            They decide to separate, with Aunt Raven saying that she’ll call Bellamy when she, Uncle Miles, and Tyler are done. “We’ll meet at the door that we came in,” she said.

            “Let’s go check out the Halloween costumes,” mom offers. “See if they have anything that you might like.”

            The Halloween costumes are half picked over and of the Disney Princesses, they have just Cinderella, Belle, and Snow White. Though I find interest in a pirate costume with white puffy sleeves and brown trousers.

            “Anne Bonny or Mary Reed?” Bellamy asks me.

            “Does it have to be a real pirate?” I ask him. “I can just be any pirate. Nothing specific.”

            “Nothing specific, eh?” he asked. “That’s one way to put it.”

            I just make a face and they chuckle. Not sure what’s amusing about it.

            Mom drifts to the baby aisle, which she said she was going. Probably not to worry Bellamy. I see that she is glancing at one of the cribs out on display. Smiling a little as she touches the wooden banister.

            Her little smile seems sad though. Like when she could only glance at them for a far during the summer this year. Like she was fearful to dare to dream.

            “Are they going to be in a crib like this?” I ask her.

            “Yeah.” She rubs her stomach. “They estimate that they should be five pounds by the time they should be born, which is in the middle of December. One on each side.”

            So, no laundry basket for them then. Had we not escaped; they would probably be in laundry baskets. But I don’t say that out loud.

            “Princess!” Bellamy calls. “Find anything.

            Mom jumps as he wheels his cart towards us. “Sorry, was I gazing too long?” she asks, as if she was afraid that she might get a lecture. _He_ would lecture her if he thought she stayed too long at a aisle in a store.

            “Only just a minute,” says Bellamy. “Don’t feel bad about it.”

            “Okay, I just don’t want to hold you up, that’s all,” she says sheepishly.

            “No, you’re good,” he says. “Don’t think for once that you are.”

            Mom gets what they called burp clothes and something they call swaddle clothes. Since Bellamy doesn’t need anything in this area, he asks Persephone and I if there is anywhere else we want to go before we look at the groceries.

            “Books,” she pipes up.

            The books are like five minutes away from the clothes. It’s not too close to the movies like the books at Walmart. I see that book for Beauty and the Beast. Lost In A Book. I owned it once and I think it’s still down in his basement.

            “Don’t you have that one?” mom asks me as I pick it up and turn the pages.

            _I don’t think I’ll get it back_ , I think as I look at mom before turning back to my book. She probably knows why I can’t answer that question.

            “Oh, she seems more behaved then my daughter who at that age,” I hear some woman say behind us. I look to see that it’s an older woman with brown hair.

            “Oh, yeah, thanks,” said mom. Like she doesn’t know how to answer that one. “Nine is a sensitive age.”

            I think I sense Bellamy watching us. I see him looking at them, like he’s ready to do something the moment mom gets uncomfortable.

            “That is true,” says the woman. She looks at mom. “How along are you?”

            “Seven,” mom answers, swallowing hard. “I’m due in December.”

            “I’m sure you and the father are looking forward to it,” she says, side glancing at Bellamy.

            Bellamy isn’t the dad, so why would this woman think that he was? Mom looks very uncomfortable. Like she doesn’t know how to answer that one.

            “Well – ” she answers.

            “I think Percy is getting tired looking at the books,” he says. “Let’s head out to the dry grocery to get what we need.”

            I put down the book and follow them. “Thank you,” mom whispered to him from ahead.

            “Anything I can do for a long-lost friend,” he said.

 

* * *

 

            We stay at Meijer for what seems like a hour and before I knew it, we were at the check out. Putting what few things we brought behind Bellamy’s stuff. Since we had food at home, we brought a couple of our favorite cereals, a bag of grapes, and a bag of halo mini oranges.

            When we met up with Aunt Raven, mom handed her the money left over. “No, you keep it,” she said. “Who knows. You might need it.”

            “Okay,” says mom, like she is still unsure. “Thanks. Thank you for this.”

            They share a big hug in the parking lot and Aunt Raven hugs me goodbye as well. “See you soon, kiddo.”

            Uncle Miles and Aunt Raven go home with Tyler. Mom and I go with Bellamy, and I sit in the backseat with just Persephone.

            “Are you ok?” he asks mom.

            “During the entire time, I still felt like there was an invisible leash attached to me,” she answered. “I mean, I knew I had to get out of the house to try to feel freedom but…”

            She drifts off.

            “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s been just a week since you guys got out. You have been through a lot. One doesn’t just heal instantly right after trauma.”

            I liked Bellamy when I saw him but I really like him now. As he seems to care about and understand my mom

            Beside me, Persephone is reading some popup book that was in the car and I read my new book on the Michigan shipwrecks. From where I’m sitting, I see mom put one earpiece in, listening to that music machine that Bellamy gave her. The music is faint, though it sounds like that song from that movie where a bunny rabbit becomes a cop and joins forces with a criminal fox.

            Bellamy pulls in the driveway and helps mom with the two bags that are hers in the car.

            “Call me if you need someone to talk to,” he tells her as he hugs her. “If things get bad, I’ll be there. I’ll be here for the both of you.” He turns to me. “It was nice meeting you, Madi. We’re going to chat some more next time I see you.”

            “I really liked seeing you too, Bellamy,” I say.

            He smiles and pats me on the shoulder before returning to his car. And he doesn’t leave the driveway until mom and I are both in the house.

 

* * *

 

            It’s a few days until Halloween and grandma has scheduled that small birthday that she promised. I overheard her ordering a cake for the two of us. I wonder what kind it is.

            As for Halloween, from what it sounds like, mom wants to be with me for my first Trick & Treating Experience.

            “Actually, Trunk or Treat,” mom corrects me as she looks at the costume that Aunt Raven brought it. It’s a Witch’s costume. “Our friends would go to one at the community center. Much safer than going literally from door to door.”

            I never knew that people would give kids candy from their car trunks. So, it’s probably a new thing.

            And I don’t think that grandma would get upset this time, as Niylah had something to say about mom going out in public.

            “Yeah, it would seem sketchy considering the media hubbub and that she would have to conceal her identity,” she explained, “but I think it’s good for her. Good for her to connect with people with a fresh slate. Good for her to venture out, as the more she does, the more she’ll get a sense of her newfound freedom.”

            “I’m not just worried about her privacy,” said grandma. “I just don’t want her to be too overwhelmed. I feel there is so much that she can handle.”

            “As if I didn’t survive a decade in hell,” mom spat out, obviously frustrated with grandma.  “Don’t say that there is so much I can handle.”

            Mom then proceeded to tell Niylah that she was fine but she didn’t sound fine.

            “Clarke! Madi! The police department brought you something!” we heard Marcus yell from downstairs.

            What did the police give us?

            “Let’s go see what it is,” mom said quietly as we leave her bedroom and travelled down the stairs.

            “There were things that they gathered at the crime scene that they thought that the both of you might want,” said grandma. “Things that they considered sentimental value.”

            She shows us a couple of packages on the kitchen table. Both of them from the State Police outpost where we were at before going to the hospital. One addressed for mom and one for me.

            I watch mom open hers as I open mine. The first thing I pull out is that coloring book he gave me. I am not excited to see it.

            “Madi’s baby book,” I could hear mom saying as I see her holding a book that she put together. It’s held together by string and I see a picture of a baby under the words _Madi’s Journal_. The baby is me. “Oh, my goodness.”

            My drawings! Yay! “Look, grandma!” I show her the map I made of Michigan and the lakes surrounding it.

            “That’s really good, Madi,” says grandma as I see mom take out what I recognize as a book with my pictures.

            “I’m going to have to send them a note,” says mom, looking through the pictures. “Bless their hearts.”

            “How far do they go?” asked grandma.

            “Until she was seven,” she says before pulling out a envelope. “These must have been the recent ones.”

            “Is this – ” Grandma asks pointing at a particular page in the picture book.

            “Yeah, he had one of those printers where you print the pictures you took on a digital camera,” she said, pulling it out. It’s the picture where mom is by a miniature tree sitting on the counter. Holding me as I was wearing a red onesie. I never paid too much attention to her expression but looking at it again, her smile looks sad. “Christmas would have been completely miserable that year if not for Madi.”

            Mom did say she was depressed before I came into her life.

            Looking at my box, I’m excited to see some of my favorite books and movies have returned to me. The art set that my mom gave me for our birthday is here, but I don’t know how I feel about the Tangled coloring book.

            I love Tangled but it feels ruined since he bought it for me shortly before mom told me what he did.

            I go upstairs with my box and tear up the coloring book. Off to the bathroom garbage can it goes.

 

* * *

 

            Mom goes through her pictures in the book that was in her room. Some of them featuring people that I have already met. Bellamy, Wells, and Aunt Raven look different when they are younger.

            I notice her hesitating before she opens that yellow and white envelope that Aunt Raven gave her. Turning it upside down and the pictures scatter on the floor. I pick one up, and I see that it’s her wearing a blue fur boa around her neck and she’s got one of those plastic tiaras on her head.

            She looks happier there. “You’re happier here,” I tell her, showing the picture.

            “Yeah, I was,” she answers, looking at the picture with her and some of her friends. “Happy, carefree…the motto I made for myself for my sixteenth birthday was _Live Happy and Free_.” Mom snorts. “Ironic, right?”

            Ironic because she wasn’t happy and free like she thought it would be.

            “Can you tell me what happened to the others in the picture?” she asks.

            “Nothing,” I ask, as I don’t know what happened to the others in the picture. “Though Bellamy and Aunt Raven have kids.”

            “Exactly,” says mom. “Nothing. They just moved on with their lives and nothing happened.”

            She sets aside the pictures and breathes into her hands. Mom wipes her eyes with her hands and turns to smile at me. “Nothing bad, at least,” she continued.

 

* * *

 

            October 27th. Our birthday celebration. It was only a few people like grandma promised. Aunt Raven, Uncle Miles, and Tyler. Wells came with his dad. Dani didn’t show up, but Wells came with her present to me.

            Maybe because she heard that Aunt Raven was here and that Aunt Raven also thinks she could have done more.

            “How are you adjusting?” Mr. Jaha asked mom after he hugged her.

            “It’s a process, but I’ll get there,” mom said with a week smile. “It’s only been two weeks since we got out of there.”

            “No one is expecting you to make a automatic adjustment to freedom,” he says. “Everyone heals differently in the face of trauma, Clarke. It all depends on the person.” He turns to me and says, “From what I hear, you’re very bright.”

            I know I’m bright. No one needs to tell me.

            Grandma and Marcus (Grandma says I can call him Steppa, short for Step Grandfather) have prepared our favorite meals. Maybe mom told them that I like turkey, broccoli, and corn.

            “Broccoli, I hated I when I was nine,” Aunt Raven commented. “I thought it was gross.”

            “My mom said it would give me special brain powers if I ate them,” I tell her, before turning back to my plate.

            It made some people laugh for some reason. “Well, that’s a way to do it, Clarke,” commented Wells.

            “Had I told you that it would, you wouldn’t be sitting at the table past dinner time,” Mr. Jaha commented.

            “Very funny, dad,” Wells said.

            After we eat, does grandma bring out the cake. It’s Halloween themed with orange and purple and white frosting. It has a pumpkin, a black cat and a ghost.

            There are even two candles. Twenty-six on one side and nine on the other. And it seemed that grandma was about to light the candles when Bellamy came.

            “Did I miss anything?” he asks, Persephone with him. “I got out of work a hour ago.”

            “Nope, you’re just in time for the cake,” Aunt Raven tells him. “Best get some now before the pieces get picked over.”

            A lot of people chuckle at that one. Everybody sings us Happy Birthday, and I thought I see Bellamy holding up his phone. Why is he making a video anyway?

            “Do you want to blow the candles together or take turns?” mom asks me.

            “Together,” I ask her. Why do we need to take turns, unless because she’s the oldest one. Still we should blow out our candles together.

            We blow our candles and people clap. “You got to say your wish first,” I could hear Uncle Miles say with a chuckle.

            “What is there to wish for when your biggest wish has already been granted?” says mom. Most likely she is talking about wanting to get out. Maybe she wished it in her head during our birthday a couple weeks ago.

            With it being our birthday party, mom and I are the first ones to get a slice of cake. It looks like a marble cake when I have a piece of it on one of grandma’s dessert plates and it tastes good with the frosting.

            We even have vanilla ice cream with it! Yum!

            “Oh yes, lick the frosting before eating the rest,” I hear Uncle Miles say and I see Tyler lick the frosting from his piece of cake.

            “The frosting is the best part,” he piped up, and everyone laughs. And Persephone decides to do the same thing.

            “Now, looks like it’s contagious,” said Bellamy with a chuckle. I just keep eating my piece of cake how I’m eating it. Or else the grownups would grow crazy on me too.

            Then it’s time for presents. Mom gets baby things, a few books, and a few art supplies.  I receive also receive some art supplies and books as well, though I get a few toys. Notably, I receive a Rapunzel doll from Aunt Raven, A Hunter’s Guide For Beginners from Dani, Greek Mythos: A Kid’s Guide from Bellamy, and a birthday card with twenty dollars from mom’s relatives.

            “Who’s Picasso?” I ask, seeing that name written on the card after reading the line of names.

            “Oh, that’s Simone and Russell’s dog,” says grandma. “They got her a year ago.”

            “Last I heard, Simone Lightbourne became a CEO of Eligius six years ago, unless I heard wrong,” says Bellamy.

            “You heard right, Bellamy,” said Aunt Raven, “and Uncle Russell is regional manager for Eligius Atlantic. From what I can say, they are a pain. Though that’s nothing compared to Josephine. I feel bad for her boyfriend, though. He seems like a decent guy.”

 

* * *

 

            Halloween.

            “Now, what’s a pirate without braids?” mom says with a smile as she braids my hair in the bathroom.

            “I thought witches weren’t supposed to be pregnant,” I point out.

            “What’s to say that witches can’t magically form lives themselves?” says mom with a smile.

            After she is done with my hair, I put the hat on my head. I turn it in my head, so it feels comfortable.

            “Now, let’s go get some candy,” mom says before picking up that green mask. I can tell that she is nervous, as can hear her teeth chatter now and then.

            Aunt Raven and Uncle Miles pick us up and I see that Tyler is wearing a black jumpsuit with a black mask that isn’t quite like a cat’s but close to it. Aunt Raven is Batgirl and Uncle Miles is Batman.

            “You’re in the presence of King T’challa of Wakanda,” he tells me.

            “Does your nation have any riches?” I ask, pretending to be the pirate.

            “Don’t even think about it, pirate,” he says, pointing the fake claws at me.

            “Getting in character before getting candy?” Uncle Miles asks with a chuckle from the front seat.

            “Aren’t we in costume?” Tyler pipes up.

            “You two are so cute,” mom comments with a smile as she sits next to me.

            It takes ten minutes to get to the community center and far off, I see cars with open trunks. I still wonder how they might be able to pass candy from their trunks.

            “Remember not to stray!” Aunt Raven called. “If you go anywhere, stay where I can see you!”

            I know what. In fact, he would tell me that from time to time. It is ironic since he kidnapped mom one year before I was born.

            Our first stop is a van and for some reason, they managed to have puppets rising from the floor of the trunk. Holding candle apple suckers. I take one from one of the green puppets and put it in my pumpkin candy basket.

            “I’d don’t think I would survive in all these layers and be that big,” a woman comments as we approach the next car.

            Mom chuckles nervously. “Well, I manage,” she says.

            “Come on, give them their candy,” says the man to his little boy in the trunk. We’re given each a Oreo cookie bar.

            We pass from car to car, and I think in five minutes my candy bucket is half full. Aunt Raven, Uncle Miles, and Tyler walked away at some point, as they seemed to spot people they know.

            “Why if it isn’t the Wicked Witch of the West and the pirate,” I hear Bellamy call out.

            We turn and I thought I see h mom jump. Bellamy is wearing the type of outfit I would see pictures of men back in the ancient days, a long white tunic tied at the waist and a red cape. Persephone is wearing a long pink dress and her hair is a high ponytail

            “Are you Alexander the Great or some other type of ancient figure?” mom asks him.

            “The former,” he answers. He looks down at me. “How are you liking trick or treating so far?”

            “I’s fun,” I answer. I lift up my basket. “My bucket is half full.”

            “Yeah, that’s a lot there,” he says. Persephone is tugging his tunic. Saying something about wanting to get more candy. “Looks like someone is ready to go back to trick or treating.”

            Mom decides to go off with them and I follow them. Bellamy puts Persephone on his shoulder. Helping her retrieve more candy to put in her bucket.

            Seeing Bellamy and Persephone makes my smile turn upside down. She has a dad that is having her on his shoulder as they get candy. They seem happy, like they don’t worry about someone getting angry back in their house because someone cracked a eggshell around them.

            Me, well, the one I have is sitting in jail because he kidnapped mom.

            “Okay, let me take a picture of you two to send to Octavia,” Bellamy said at one point.

            I smile for the camera because he doesn’t need to see that I’m sad.

            Why can’t I have a good dad?


End file.
